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From    A    NEW    ENGLAND 
WOMAN'S  DIARY  in  DIXIE 

in    1865 


By 

MARY  AMES 


SPRINGFIELD 

1906 


Copyright,  1906 
By  Mary  Ames 


The  Plimpton  Press  Norwood  Mass.  U.  S.  A. 


INTRODUCTION 

Some  of  Miss  Ames's  friends,  who 
have  enjoyed  listening  to  the  stories 
of  her  southern  school  life,  have  fre- 
quently begged  her  to  print  them. 

This  opportunity  of  helping  to  edu- 
cate a  pupil  in  that  wonderful  school, 
which  is  so  great  a  contrast  to  the  scene 
of  her  early  efforts,  has  decided  her  to 
allow  the  diary  to  be  prepared  for 
publication. 

In  making  this  gift  to  Hampton,  she 
emphasizes  her  first  gift  to  the  negro 
of  eighteen  months'  service,  and  per- 
petuates the  memory  of  the  sister  who 
was  her  closest  friend  and  dearest  com- 


Introduction 


panion,  and  whom  Springfield  will  long 
remember  as  strong  and  brave  and 
helpful;  but  especially  will  she  be  re- 
membered for  "her  wit  that  woke  their 
laughter  and  left  a  kindly  glow." 
Even  the  boy  who  left  the  daily  paper 
at  her  door  felt  her  kindness  and 
"caught  the  secret  of  her  character." 

On  the  day  of  her  funeral,  in  June, 
1903,  he  left  three  roses  at  the  house, 
with  the  following  words: 

"  '  She  doeth  little  kindnesses 

Which  most  leave  undone  or  despise; 
For  naught  that  sets  one  heart  at  ease 
And  giveth  happiness  and  peace 
Is  low  esteemed  in  her  eyes.' 

From  the  morning  newsboy,  for  whom  she 
placed  out  such  splendid  apples." 

June,  1906.  E.  L.  C. 


VI 


FROM  A  NEW  ENGLAND 
WOMAN'S  DIARY  IN 

DIXIE   IN  1865 

Miss  Ware,  of  Cambridge,  came  to 
Springfield  to  visit  Mrs.  Farrar.  The 
story  of  her  experiences  with  the  col- 
ored people  in  the  South  was  so  in- 
teresting that  my  friend  Emily  Bliss 
and  I  became  enthusiastic  to  follow 
her  example. 

We  went  to  Boston,  saw  the  chief  of 
the  Freedmen's  Bureau,  were  exam- 
ined, and  enrolled  as  teachers. 

We  were  ordered  to  leave  at  once  for 
Hilton  Head,  and  report  to  Mr.  Dodge, 
the    agent   there.     Our    families    ridi- 


A  New  England  TVoman* s 

culed  our  going  and  tried  to  stop  us, 
prophesying  our  return  in  less  than  a 
month.  We  made  our  preparations, 
which  were  not  elaborate,  —  a  chair,  a 
plate,  knife,  fork  and  spoon;  cup  and 
saucer,  blanket,  sheets  and  pillow- 
cases, and  sacking  for  a  bed  of  hay  or 
straw  to  be  found  wherever  we  should 
be  situated,  and  we  added  some  crack- 
ers, tea,  and  a  teapot. 

We  sailed  from  New  York  on  the 
steamer  Fulton,  May  i,  1865,  and  after 
a  pleasant  sail  reached  Hilton  Head 
on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day. 

We  landed  after  breakfast,  and 
walked  to  the  place  where  we  took  the 
oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United  States. 
We  called  upon  Mr.  Dodge,  and  found 


Diary  in  Dixie 

with  him  five  or  six  teachers.  We 
were  not  cordially  received,  and  evi- 
dently were  not  wanted,  and  were  ad- 
vised to  proceed  to  Charleston  and 
report  to  Mr.  Redpath,  who  was  in 
charge  of  the  Freedmen's  Bureau  there. 

We  met  a  Mr.  Blake  from  New 
Haven,  a  pleasant  young  man,  who 
offered  to  escort  us  to  Charleston.  He 
is  employed  by  the  Boston  society  to 
look  after  forlorn  females  who  come 
as  teachers. 

At  eight  in  the  evening,  we  left  Hil- 
ton Head  on  a  small  steamer  loaded 
with  soldiers  on  their  way  to  Charles- 
ton, to  be  discharged  from  service. 
There  was  no  place  for  us.  We  had 
to  sit  the  long  night  through,  on  a 
3 


A  New  England  Woman's 

bench  with  no  back,  surrounded  by 
soldiers  smoking,  playing  cards,  and 
telling  stories  —  the  longest  night  I 
ever  knew. 

Arriving  at  Charleston  early  in  the 
morning,  we  were  taken  to  Mr.  Red- 
path's  office.  He  being  absent,  Mr. 
Pillsbury,  of  Massachusetts,  came  to 
meet  us.  He  gave  us  a  most  cordial 
greeting. 

Emily,  weary,  discouraged,  and 
homesick,  threw  herself  sobbing  into 
his  arms,  saying,  "Oh!  sir,  have  you 
a  wife?" 

At  once,  he  took  in  the  situation, 
called  an  ambulance,  and  put  us  in 
charge  of  a  sergeant  with  a  note  to  his 

wife. 

4 


Diary  in  Dixie 

Mrs.  Pillsbury,  a  lovely,  motherly 
woman,  took  us  in  and  made  us  com- 
fortable. They  were  living  in  one  of 
the  most  elegant  mansions  in  Charles- 
ton; the  furniture,  pictures,  and  orna- 
ments were  all  as  their  owner  had  left 
them.  The  garden  was  a  delight;  I 
never  saw  finer  roses. 

Mr.  Redpath  came  to  see  us  in  the 
evening,  wished  us  to  remain  in  the 
city  and  teach  in  the  public  schools, 
and  was  quite  disturbed  and  disap- 
pointed that  we  objected.  We  felt 
that  we  were  not  fitted  for  regular 
teaching.  We  were  then  offered  a 
position  on  one  of  the  islands  where 
several  thousand  negroes  were  sent 
after  Sherman's  march.  That  suited 
5 


A  New  England  Woman's 

us,  and  we  were  ordered  to  leave  in 
two  days. 

Meanwhile,  we  visited  different 
schools,  and  saw  how  un fitted  we  were 
for  teachers. 

May  io,  1865. 

At  one  o'clock  we  left  Charleston 
on  the  propeller  Hudson,  for  Edisto 
Island.  Sailing  along  the  shore  and 
up  Edisto  River,  we  reached  the  land- 
ing-place just  at  sunset. 

It  seemed  like  fairy  land  —  every- 
thing so  fresh  and  green  —  the  air  so 
soft. 

We  brought  on  the  boat  a  hundred 
and  fifty  negroes,  who,  as  soon  as  they 
landed,  built  fires  to  cook  their  supper; 


Diary  in  Dixie 

the  live-oaks  in  the  background,  with 
their  hanging  moss,  had  a  very  pictur- 
esque effect. 

We  spent  the  night  on  the  boat,  the 
captain  giving  us  his  stateroom.  We 
had  a  visit  from  a  Mrs.  Webb  and  one 
of  the  officers  of  the  32d  Regulars, 
colored  infantry,  two  companies  of 
which  are  stationed  here  to  protect  the 
island  from  guerrillas.  We  were  asked 
to  breakfast  at  headquarters,  about 
half  a  mile  from  the  landing. 

May  ii. 

At  seven  we  started  for  camp,  which 
was  on  the  plantation  formerly  owned 
by  William  Seabrook.  They  gave  us  a 
good  breakfast;  then  the  Colonel  placed 

7 


A  New  England  Woman* s 

at  our  disposal  a  large  army  wagon, 
drawn  by  four  horses,  to  take  us  with 
our  trunks  and  boxes  to  find  a  place  to 
live.  The  drive  was  delightful,  the 
road  shaded  and  cool,  winding  under 
immense  live-oak  trees  covered  with 
moss;  the  wild  grape  was  in  bloom, 
and  the  air  filled  with  its  perfume. 
We  passed  several  houses  crowded  with 
negroes,  and  could  not  make  up  our 
minds  to  stop  at  any.  We  drove  on 
some  three  or  four  miles  further  and, 
as  it  began  to  be  very  warm  and  un- 
comfortable, we  decided  to  stop  at  the 
very  next  house,  negroes  or  no  negroes. 
Soon  we  reached  what  must  have  once 
been  a  pretty  avenue,  now  rather  for- 
lorn. Driving  in,  we  found  negro 
8 


Diary  in  Dixie 


cabins  on  either  side,  and  a  large  house 
at  the  end. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  cabins  came 
flocking  out  to  welcome  us  with  how- 
dys,  and  offers  of  service  to  the 
missis.  The  former  owner  of  the 
plantation  was  Dr.  Whaley,  the  pos- 
sessor of  a  hundred  slaves,  many  of 
whom  were  now  returned  and  living 
in  the  cabins.  He  deserted  the  place 
four  years  before,  and  the  house  had 
a  desolate  appearance  —  the  windows 
gone,  and  shutters  hanging  by  one 
hinge.  Our  trunks,  box,  and  chairs 
were  placed  on  the  piazza  and  the 
army  wagon  was  driven  away.  We 
looked  at  each  other;  our  hearts  were 
full,  and  if  we  could  have  seen  any 
9 


A  New  England  JV^omari*  s 

honorable  way  to  escape  and  go  home 
we  certainly  should  have  gone. 

However,  we  choked  down  our  feel- 
ings, and  the  front  door  being  opened 
by  a  black  man  and  a  woman,  with 
half  a  dozen  children  hanging  to  her 
skirts,  we  entered  our  home  to  be. 
The  rooms  were  large  and  airy  (minus 
windows),  but  filled  with  sticks,  plaster 
from  the  ceilings,  and  dirt  of  all  kinds. 
We  selected  two  rooms  and  asked  if 
they  could  be  cleared  and  cleaned. 
Uncle  Jack  and  Aunt  Phoebe,  who  lived 
in  one  of  the  cabins,  came  to  our  as- 
sistance, and  having  no  brooms,  mops, 
or  any  conveniences  for  cleaning,  man- 
aged with  the  gray  moss  to  wipe  off 

the  upper  dust   from   the  floors;  then 
10 


Diary  in  Dixie 

dashing  on  cold  water,  and  with  their 
feet  shuffling  the  moss,  contrived  to 
wash  the  floors  decently  clean. 

Meanwhile,  the  woman,  Sarah,  made 
the  tea,  which,  with  some  crackers,  we 
took  out  of  our  trunk;  —  and  this,  the 
first  meal  in  our  new  home,  we  ate  on 
the  piazza.  It  was  fortunate  that  we 
had  chairs.  The  bedsteads  were  acci- 
dentally left  behind  in  New  York,  but 
were  to  be  sent  on  the  next  steamer. 
We  spread  our  bed-sacks  on  the  floor 
after  it  was  dry,  for  we  soon  learned 
there  was  neither  hay  nor  straw  to  be 
had  to  fill  them,  covered  them  with 
our  waterproofs,  and,  as  we  had  blan- 
kets and  pillows,  our  beds  were  soon 

ready. 

ii 


A  New  England  Woman's 

About  sundown  Mr.  Blake  appeared, 
and  with  him  two  young  women  teach- 
ers, also  members  of  the  Freedmen's 
Bureau.  They  brought  a  few  black- 
berries, picked  by  the  roadside,  which 
were  a  welcome  addition  to  our  crackers 
and  tea.  On  our  way  up-stairs  to  bed, 
we  were  met  by  an  angry  old  woman, 
who  said  we  had  taken  possession  of 
her  quarters,  and  must  pay  her  for 
them.  We  were  frightened,  and  ex- 
plained that  we  were  sent  by  the  United 
States  Government,  and  must  be  re- 
spected accordingly.  She  went  away, 
but  soon  began  to  throw  stones  and 
pieces  of  crockery  into  our  open  win- 
dows.    We  were  alarmed,  for  we  did 

not  know  how  many  were  leagued  with 
12 


Diary  in  Dixie 

her.  It  began  to  rain  and  a  heavy 
thunder  shower  soon  dispersed  our 
assailants.  But  sleep  was  impossible. 
Having  no  doors  to  close,  we  did  not 
know  what  might  happen  in  a  strange 
land  among  strange  people.  I  got  out 
the  hammer  we  had  brought  in  our 
box  and  kept  it  in  my  hand  all  night, 
ready  to  beat  out  the  brains  of  any  one 
attacking  us. 

May  12. 

The  first  thing  we  did  this  morn- 
ing was  to  get  our  flag  hung  out  in 
front  of  the  house.  It  is  quite  large 
and  floated  out  finely.  The  ne- 
groes appeared  glad  to  see  it.  We 
unpacked  the  big  box,  turning  it  on 
J3 


A  New  England  TVomari '  s 

its  side  to  serve  for  a  table  and  wash- 
stand. 

Jim  and  Sarah,  with  six  children, 
are  living  in  the  back  part  of  this  house. 
We  are  glad  to  have  them  for  protec- 
tion, and  find  them  useful. 

Sarah  is  a  fine-looking  woman,  quiet 
and  sensible.  She  has  always  been 
a  house-servant,  was  born  and  reared 
in  Richmond,  was  sold  with  three 
children  to  Dr.  Leavitt  of  Charleston, 
leaving  the  father  of  her  children  in 
Richmond.  Since  that,  she  has  had  six 
children,  having  had  five  husbands,  or 
men  with  whom  she  was  obliged  to  live, 
as  she  was  sold  from  one  master  to 
another.  Jim  was  the  last  one.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  war,  Sarah  and 
H 


Diary  in  Dixie 


her  children  were  sent  with  her  mis- 
tress to  Sumterville. 

When  Sherman  and  his  army  came 
along,  Sarah  was  told  by  her  mistress 
that  if  she  followed  the  army  she  must 
take  all  her  children,  not  thinking  she 
would  go. 

When  the  mistress  found  that  Jim 
and  Sarah  were  actually  going,  she 
asked  one  of  the  Union  officers  to  make 
Sarah  stay  behind.  He  told  her  he 
had  no  power  to  do  that;  the  woman 
was  free  and  could  act  her  own  pleasure. 

Sarah  had  a  mind  to  stay  on,  as  her 
mistress  had  always  treated  her  kindly, 
but  Jim  insisted  on  joining  Sherman's 
train.  Just  before  they  left,  one  Sat- 
urday Campbell,  who  had  been  one  of 
15 


A  New  England  JVomatfs 

Sarah's  five  husbands,  and  was  the 
father  of  her  child  Anne,  came  and 
claimed  Sarah.  Jim  fought  and  con- 
quered him,  thus  winning  Sarah  and 
her  children.  They  walked  nearly  a 
hundred  miles,  Sarah  carrying  Mar- 
gery, a  two-year-old  child,  in  her  arms. 
She  kept  the  other  children  in  front  of 
her,  for  many  lost  their  children. 

After  dinner  of  tea  and  crackers, 
which  was  our  breakfast  and  supper 
also  for  nearly  three  weeks,  we  visited 
our  neighbors.  Their  faces  shone  when 
we  told  them  why  we  had  come.  They 
all  seemed  decent  and  sensible  crea- 
tures. 

We  learn  that  there  are  ten  thousand 
16 


Diary  in  Dixie 

negroes  here.  The  officers  and  the 
teachers  are  the  only  white  people 
allowed  on  the  island,  except  the  com- 
missary, who  is  four  miles  away. 

The  negroes  go  to  him  once  a  month 
for  rations.  Sherman's  plan  is  to 
have  the  negroes  take  care  of  them- 
selves; they  have  planted  corn, 
beans,  and  cotton,  and  are  to  repay 
the  Government  when  their  crops  are 
gathered.  This  seems  to  be  under- 
stood by  all. 

We  walked  down  the  road  to  a 
church,  which  bore  marks  of  destruc- 
tion similar  to  those  of  our  house. 
The  frame  of  the  organ  remains,  the 
windows  are  gone,  doors  off  their 
hinges,  and  pews  mutilated,  but  we 
17 


A  New  England  Woman*  s 

decided  that  it  would  serve  our  pur- 
pose well  as  a  school-house. 

We  have  announced  that  we  will 
open  school  Monday.  Many  of  the 
older  blacks  ask  if  they  are  too  old  to 
learn  to  read.  They  cannot  come  to 
school  during  the  day  as  it  is  planting 
time,  so  we  have  promised  to  have  an 
evening  school  at  the  house  twice  a 
week. 

We  have  engaged  Sarah,  for  five  or 
six  dollars  a  month,  to  wash,  iron,  and 
do  the  little  cooking  we  shall  have. 

Her  second  son,  Zack,  about  four- 
teen, is  to  wait  upon  us.  He  was 
with  Dr.  Leavitt,  at  Fort  Sumter,  and 
one  day  a  horse  on  which  he  was  rid- 
ing was  killed  by  a  Union  shell. 


Diary  in  Dixie 

At  the  sutler's  we  found  a  man 
who  is  both  baker  and  carpenter.  He 
is  to  put  locks  or  bolts  on  our  doors, 
and  to  set  some  window  glass. 

All  the  negroes  we  have  seen  are 
industrious,  and  their  cabins  look  neat. 
We  found  plum  trees  loaded  with  fruit 
all  along  the  way,  and  plenty  of  black- 
berries. 

May  13. 

Mr.  Blake  came  to  see  if  he  could  be 
of  service.  He,  with  the  aid  of  Jim, 
took  our  big  packing-box  and  made  us 
a  table  to  eat  from,  and  a  bench  to  sit 
upon  at  meal  time,  so  that  we  need 
not  bring  our  chairs  down  from  the 
bedrooms.  Chairs  are  a  great  luxury. 
19 


A  New  England  Wroman> s 

In  the  afternoon,  we  walked  to  the 
"Mikell  Place,"  two  miles  away,  where 
live  two  teachers,  also  belonging  to 
the  Freedmen's  Bureau,  —  Miss  Kemp- 
ton,  from  New  Bedford,  and  Miss 
Stanton,  from  Framingham.  Their 
house  was  large,  dirty,  and  dilapidated. 
About  a  well  in  a  large  courtyard  in 
front  of  the  house,  several  blacks 
with  tubs  were  doing  their  week's 
washing. 

Returning,  we  met  many  people  com- 
ing from  the  commissary  with  their 
rations.  Some  had  sacks,  others  boxes 
or  tubs  on  their  heads.  They  asked 
if  we  had  rations,  and  being  told  that 
we   had  not  yet  been   supplied,   they 

lowered  their  tubs  and  offered  to  give 
20 


Diary  in  Dixie 

us  some  of  theirs.     We  thought  them 
very  generous. 

Sunday,  May  14. 

A  beautiful  day,  though  rather  warm. 
We  started  for  church,  but  to  our  sur- 
prise met  the  congregation  coming 
away.  There  was  to  be  a  funeral  at 
a  distance,  and  the  minister  had  to 
omit  the  church  service.  Later  we 
saw  the  procession,  a  long  one.  They 
were  singing  a  melancholy  dirge  as 
they  walked.  As  they  passed,  they 
spoke  to  us,  the  men  touching  their 
hats,   and   the   women   curtsying. 

Seating  ourselves  on  the  steps  of  a 

deserted  house,  we  soon  had  a  crowd 

about  us.       One   girl   amused   us  —  a 
21 


A  New  England  JVornari*  s 

regular  Topsy,  who  had  come  from 
Georgia  with  Sherman.  She  exam- 
ined our  clothes,  got  behind  Emily, 
felt  of  her  dress,  and  said,  "Big  plaits 
in  skirts  are  just  coming  into  style." 
The  fashion  had  reached  the  South, 
and  all  the  ladies  had  been  changing 
their  skirts. 

Then  catching  sight  of  the  "water- 
fall" on  my  head,  she  was  amazed, 
and  said,  "Rebel  ladies  don't  know 
how  to  make  them." 

Monday,  May  15. 

The  weather  is  much  the  same  that 
we  have  in  June,  cool  mornings  and 
evenings,  warm  in  the  middle  of  the 

day. 

22 


Diary  in  Dixie 

We  opened  school  at  nine  o'clock, 
with  fifteen  scholars,  nine  boys,  and 
six  girls.  Some  were  decently  clad, 
others  filthy  and  nearly  naked.  One 
or  two  knew  their  letters.  None  could 
read.  We  dismissed  early,  as  the  chil- 
dren seemed  tired  and  we  were  de- 
cidedly weary. 

On  the  way  home  we  met  the  old 
woman  who  threw  crockery  at  our 
windows  the  night  of  our  arrival.  She 
told  us  she  was  "great  on  religion," 
and  read  us  a  long  sermon  —  how  to 
live  that  we  might  die  when  called  — 
and  ended  by  saying  she  was  "as  poor 
as  Job's  turkey."  When  asked  how 
poor  that  was,  she  said  he  had  but 
one  feather,  and  that  all  she  had 
23 


A  New  England  JVomarfs 

was  on  her  back,  and  mighty  little  of 
that. 

We  have  hired  boys  to  collect  and 
cure  the  gray  moss  for  our  bed-sacks. 
At  any  rate,  it  will  be  better  than  the 
bare  boards,  on  which  we  are  now 
lying. 

May  i 6. 

Passing  a  tumbled-down   house  on 

our  way  to  school,  we  heard  hammers, 

and  going  in,  found  some  men  making 

a   coffin   out   of  the   boards.     During 

school,  we  saw  them  back  of  the  church 

digging  the  grave,  hoeing  out  the  dirt 

with  their  large  cotton  hoes  (their  only 

implement). 

We  had  twenty-eight  scholars.     Two 
24 


Diary  in  Dixie 

of  the  new  ones  can  read.  This  is 
pleasanter  than  teaching  ABC.  Two 
children,  John  and  Eliza,  came  five 
miles  to  school.  John  was  fourteen 
and  a  bright  boy.  He  was  nearly 
naked,  and  so  filthy  that  I  did  not 
think  I  could  have  him  near  me,  and 
advised  him  to  go  into  the  creek  to 
bathe. 

Every  noon  I  take  home  with  me  a 
troop  of  children,  to  whom  I  give 
thread,  needles,  and  pieces  of  cloth, 
that  they  may  have  their  garments 
patched  at  home.  We  are  trying  to 
teach  cleanliness  as  well  as  reading 
and  spelling,  but  it  is  a  tough  job,  for 
the  poor  creatures  have  lived  so  long 
in  a  filthy  condition  that  they  don't 
25 


A  New  England  Woman* s 

know  what  it  is  to  be  clean.  Soon 
after  we  reached  home,  Eliza  came  run- 
ning to  tell  us  that  her  brother  John 
had  been  drowned  in  the  creek.  He 
went  in  with  several  others,  got  be- 
yond his  depth  and  did  not  know  how 
to  swim.  The  tide,  which  was  coming 
in,  is  very  strong  just  at  that  point, 
and  John  was  carried  beyond  the 
reach  of  those  with  him.  It  was  a 
terrible  shock  to  us,  and  I  felt  partly 
responsible. 

Our  dinner  was  excellent.  We  had 
hominy,  brought  by  a  man  we  met  on 
the  road  one  day,  and  one  of  our  chil- 
dren caught  some  crabs,  which  Sarah 

boiled.     We  feel  as  if  we  had  had  a 

26 


Diary  in  Dixie 

_v 

sumptuous  feast  —  such  a  change  from 
tea  and  crackers! 

There  is  an  open  fireplace  in  Sarah's 
room,  where  she  makes  our  tea  in  a 
small  tin  cup,  which  we  brought  from 
home,  and  boils  hominy  in  —  I  don't 
know  what,  —  nor  do  I  ask.  At  night 
all  the  family  (six  children)  stretch 
themselves  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the 
fire,  and  so  sleep.  They  have  no 
bedding  of  any  kind,  neither  chairs 
nor  tables.  They  have  a  bowl,  one 
plate,  and  one  spoon.  At  meal-times 
they  take  turns  in  using  these.  They 
sit  on  the  floor  of  the  piazza;  a  portion 
is  put  into  the  bowl,  —  hominy  or 
beans  with  a  tiny  bit  of  salt  pork,  — 

and  they  eat  by  turns.     The  children 

27 


A  New  England  JVoman's 

are  well  behaved.  George,  the  eldest 
boy,  is  religious  and  dull;  Zack,  our 
waiter  boy,  is  a  high-flier;  Charlotte, 
quiet  and  not  well;  Ann,  a  pert  piece, 
bright-eyed  and  devoted  to  us.  Ben 
is  a  nice,  chubby  little  fellow,  who  will 
go  to  school  and  can't  keep  awake. 
Ann  flies  at  him  every  few  minutes, 
and  shakes  him  up.  Margery,  two 
years  old,  is  a  pretty  little  creature. 

To-day  I  found  a  singular  insect  on 
my  neck.  We  have  been  warned  we 
should  meet  with  such  enemies,  but 
this  is  the  first  of  this  kind.  Wood- 
ticks  we  have  already  had,  mosquitoes 
and  fleas  are  yet  to  come. 


28 


Diary  in  Dixie 


May  17. 

A  very  warm  morning.  We  find 
our  half-mile  walk  to  school  tiresome. 
A  large  school,  sixty-six  scholars,  and 
rather  unruly.  Poor  Emily  is  not 
adapted  to  deal  with  rough  boys.  I 
am  obliged  to  go  to  her  aid  and,  stamp- 
ing my  feet  and  shouting  my  commands, 
bring  them  to  order.  We  are  teaching 
the  children  the  days  of  the  week,  the 
months,  and  also  to  count. 

Mr.  Blake  visited  the  school,  and 
we  had  a  call  also  from  the  colored 
Baptist  minister,  who  has  a  school 
somewhere  on  the  island. 

He  asked  to  what  denomination  we 

belonged.     He    had    never    heard    of 

Unitarians   and   asked   what   was   our 
29 


A  New  England  IVomatfs 

belief.  We  told  him,  and  then  he 
asked  us  to  teach  in  his  Sunday  school, 
which  we  agreed  to  do  in  the  fall  when 
it  is  cooler. 

Mr.  Redpath  has  issued  a  mandate 
forbidding  the  reading  of  the  Bible  in 
school  —  no  religious  exercise  except 
saying  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

John's  body  has  been  washed  up 
by  the  tide  and  recovered. 

May  i 8. 

Mr.  Blake  made  a  blackboard  for 
us,  wasting  several  eggs  and  nearly  all 
our  ink  before  he  succeeded. 

Jim  killed  a  snake,  which  he  called 
a  chicken  snake,  as  they  come  where 
there  are  chickens.  Our  neighbors 
30 


Diary  in  Dixie 

have  many  chickens  so  tame  that  they 
are  in  our  house  constantly.  Last 
week  a  big  rattlesnake  was  killed  in 
our  garden,  and  a  huge  black  snake  in 
our  yard.  We  have  seen  only  one, 
and  that  the  children  called  a  glass 
snake,  for  when  struck  it  flew  into 
many  pieces  all  wriggling  and  alive. 
We  see  lizards  everywhere. 

Six  new  scholars.  A  woman  came 
with  a  prayer-book,  asking  to  be  taught 
to  read  it.  We  told  her  we  would 
teach  her  willingly,  but  it  would  be 
some  time  before  she  could  read  that. 
She  was  satisfied,  and  as  she  was  leav- 
ing, put  her  hand  under  her  apron 
and  brought  out  two  eggs  —  one  she 
put  in  Emily's  lap,  the  other  in  mine. 
31 


A  New  England  W^omarfs 

Our  first  rations  came  to-day,  brought 
by  the  men  from  headquarters.  A 
large  box  —  a  soap-box  —  with  beans 
at  the  bottom,  covered  by  a  piece  of 
dirty  paper,  then  a  layer  of  brown 
sugar,  and  on  top  of  all  a  bar  of  soap 
and  six  candles.  Some  ground  coffee 
in  a  paper,  a  smaller  bag  with  fat 
bacon  and  salt  pork,  and  a  half  barrel 
of  flour. 

Emily  came  down  and  viewed  the 

lot,  burst  into  tears  and  wished  that 

the  grave  we  had  seen  hoed  out  at  the 

church  was  to  lay  her  in.     Poor  Emily! 

I  was  disheartened,  but  knew  we  must 

make  the  best  of  it.     We  walked  up  to 

the  sutler's,  who  said   he  would  take 

all  we  did  not  want,  and  give  us  in 
32 


Diary  in  Dixie 

exchange  from  his  stores.  We  got 
condensed  milk,  butter,  cornmeal, 
and  other  things,  and  Sarah  cooked 
us  a  royal  supper.  We  felt  better 
after  a  decent  meal,  and  Emily  con- 
cluded to  live  a  while  longer. 

Later  a  woman  came  in  suffering 
severe  pain.  We  administered  cay- 
enne tea  sweetened  with  brown  sugar, 
and  she  was  relieved. 

The  evening  was  delightfully  cool. 
We  had  our  first  evening  school  for 
men  and  women  on  our  piazza.  It 
was  well  attended,  all  sitting  on  the 
floor  and  steps.  One  woman,  who 
was  much  bent  with  rheumatism,  and 
seemed  very  old,  said  she  was  "Mighty 
anxious  to  know  something." 
33 


A  New  England  IVomari*  s 

Late  in  the  evening  Dr.  Mason 
came  to  tell  us  that  Jefferson  Davis, 
Stevens,  and  Clay  had  been  taken 
prisoners  in  Georgia  and  sent  North. 

May  19. 

School  went  off  very  well  —  boys 
less  noisy.  A  man  came  in  and  sat 
at  the  back  of  the  church  to  listen  to 
our  teaching,  and  the  boys  thought 
we  had  engaged  him  to  whip  them  if 
they  misbehaved.  We  have  found  out 
that  the  boys  are  afraid  of  their  fathers, 
who  are  "Great  on  licking,"  so  we  shall 
threaten  to  report  them  if  they  are 
unruly. 

The  ivy  round  our  house  is  beauti- 
ful; the  lower  part  of  the  building  is 
34 


Diary  in  Dixie 

covered.  We  have  got  the  men  to 
trim  up  the  trees  in  our  avenue,  and 
to  hoe  out  the  road.  On  either  side 
of  our  door  are  clove  trees,  full  of  fruit, 
and  in  the  yard  we  have  found  a 
Cape  Jessamine  in  full  flower  and  a 
white  Crepe  Myrtle.  We  are  trying 
to  get  more  sun  on  the  house. 

May  20,  Saturday. 

No  school,  and  we  devote  the  day 
to  house-cleaning.  We  feel  so  much 
better  for  having  more  food.  Crackers 
and  tea  are  not  strength-giving.  Dr. 
Mason  came  in  the  large  army  wagon, 
bringing  us  from  Beaufort  a  stove,  tea- 
kettle, and  coffee-pot.  We  cannot  have 
our  stove  put  up,  as  Jim,  our  Prime 
35 


A  New  England  Woman's 

Minister,  is  having  toothache  and  can- 
not attend  to  matters.  We  already 
see  a  change  in  the  appearance  of 
our  scholars.  They  are  cleaner,  and 
though  wearing  the  same  garments 
the  rents  are  sewed  up  and  patches 
are  put  on. 

May  21. 

Lieutenant  Jenkins,  who  with  Mrs. 
Webb  had  invited  us  to  spend  the  day 
in  the  camp,  came  for  us  in  his  car- 
riage. The  three-mile  drive  was 
beautiful.  We  did  not  half  appreciate 
it  the  day  we  came.  The  six  officers, 
who  were  smoking  on  the  piazza,  gave 
us  a  cordial  greeting. 

At  the  end  of  a  shady  walk  back  of 

36 


Diary  in  Dixie 

the  house  are  the  fish  and  terrapin 
ponds.  Around  the  fish  pond  is  a 
broad  carriage  drive  shaded  by  im- 
mense oak  trees.  A  lovely  grove  of 
large  trees  beyond  was  approached  by 
an  avenue  of  tall  laurels,  planted  so 
closely  that  they  formed  a  thick  hedge 
on  either  side,  and  met  over  our  heads, 
shutting  out  completely  the  rays  of  the 
sun.  At  four  o'clock  we  went  out  to  see 
the  dress  parade  of  the  colored  soldiers. 

May  23. 

Nearly  the  whole  school  escorted  us 
home  to-day. 

We  sat  on  the  piazza,  and  dealt  out 
needles,    thread,    combs,    and    dresses 
from  Mrs.  Pillsbury's  store. 
37 


A  New  England  JVomari*  s 

One  girl  brought  back  a  dress  she 
had  taken  home,  for  "Ma  says  it  don't 
fit,  and  she  don't  want  it."  It  was 
rather  large  and  rather  short,  but  she 
was  very  dirty  and  ragged,  and  we  told 
her  she  must  keep  it.  Another  girl 
promised  to  bring  us  a  chicken  if  she 
could  have  a  dress.  We  gave  her  one, 
and  she  soon  came  back  with  six  eggs. 

We  live  with  hens,  pigs,  and  quan- 
tities of  rabbits,  which  the  children 
have  for  pets.  Occasionally,  a  rabbit 
is  killed  and  eaten. 

Jim  has  put  up  our  stove;  the  pipe 
being  too  short  for  the  chimney,  he 
has  put  it  out  a  window. 


38 


Diary  in  Dixie 

May  24. 

It  was  one  o'clock  when  school 
closed.  We  have  so  many  grades  that 
we  cannot  put  them  in  classes,  and  it 
takes  longer.  The  big  boys  are  un- 
ruly. Emily  is  a  good  singer,  and 
when  the  school  is  too  much  for  us, 
we  start  singing,  and  that  calms  them 
down. 

Several  children  came  and  demanded 
clothing  as  a  right.  A  girl  brought 
back  a  dress,  saying  it  was  "scant." 
She  wanted  a  fuller  skirt  and  a  hoop- 
skirt. 

May  25. 

School    was    getting    pretty    unruly 
when  a  big  man  appeared  to  ask  for 
39 


A  New  England  Woman* s 

"learning."  The  boys  quieted  down. 
I  had  threatened  to  get  a  man  to  help 
me  whip  the  bad  boys,  and  evidently 
they  thought  he  had  come  for  that 
purpose. 

We  paid  Sarah  her  wages;  the  first 
money  she  ever  earned  or  handled. 

We  found,  growing  in  great  quanti- 
ties beside  the  road,  the  Passion  flower, 
in  full  bloom. 

Some  men  brought  the  dried  moss 
for  our  beds.  It  is  cured  by  soaking 
it  five  days  in  salt  water,  then  drying 
it  in  the  sun.  It  is  jet  black  and  very 
dry.  We  have  paid  Uncle  Jack  for  it. 
Jim  will  pick  it  over,  and  fill  our  bed- 
sacks.     We  shall  have  soft  beds  to  lie 

upon  to-night. 

40 


Diary  in  Dixie 

Dr.  Mason  advises  us  to  go  to  the 
bay  soon.  It  will  not  be  safe  to  stay 
on  the  island  after  the  weather  be- 
comes hot.     There  is  danger  of  fever. 

Saturday,  May  27. 

No  school.  The  morning  being  fine 
and  the  roar  of  the  ocean  plainly  heard, 
we  decided  to  drive  to  the  bay.  I  can- 
not describe  our  conveyance.  There 
were  large  spaces  between  the  floor 
boards  of  the  cart;  both  horses  were 
skeletons,  one  large  and  the  other 
small.  The  harness  was  of  ropes  and 
small  cords,  with  twine  for  reins. 

The  road  was  much  overgrown, 
flowers  of  all  kinds  lined  the  way,  and 
turkey  buzzards  were  sitting  in  solemn 
41 


A  New  England  JVoman*s 

conference.  Within  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  of  Edingsville  —  as  the  bay  is 
called  —  we  reached  a  creek,  which 
we  crossed  on  a  flat-bottomed  raft  and 
walked  to  the  long  row  of  houses  on 
the  beach.  Once  this  was  a  famous 
summer  resort,  and  some  of  the  houses 
are  very  pretty.  The  beach  is  broad 
and  hard,  and  the  surf  was  grand. 
We  went  to  several  houses,  looking 
for  one  that  suited  us  for  a  summer 
home. 

Meeting  Mr.  Everett  and  the  two 
ladies,  they  invited  us  to  share  with 
them  a  pleasant  house  they  had  found. 
We  will  decide  later. 

After  we  had  gone  to  bed  we  heard 

a  clatter  of  horses'  feet,  and  Dr.  Mason 

42 


Diary  in  Dixie 

and  Captain  Crissy  appeared  with  our 
mail.  Fatigue  and  headaches  were 
forgotten;  we  sat  up  half  the  night 
reading  our  letters  and  talking  of  home. 

May  28. 

The  army  wagon  brought  our  long- 
delayed  and  much-needed  bedsteads. 
With  them  and  our  moss  beds  we  shall 
not  want  to  get  up  at  five  every  morn- 
ing. We  have  lain  on  the  bare  floor 
nearly  three  weeks. 

Our  shutters  and  blinds  have  been 
mended,  and  we  sent  to  Charleston  for 
glass  for  the  windows. 

Uncle  Jack's  pig  was  stolen  last 
night,  the  second  within  a  few  weeks. 
He  says  he  is  going  to  Charleston  to 
43 


A  New  England  JVoman^s 

consult  a  fortune-teller  to  find  out  the 
thief.  We  advise  him  to  stay  at  home 
and  to  watch  for  the  guilty  person. 

May  29. 

Walker  has  made  us  a  chair  and 
table,  for  which  we  paid  a  good  price. 
Some  coarse  straw  hats,  suitable  only 
for  bathing,  cost  us  a  dollar  and  a  half 
apiece. 

In  our  walk  this  afternoon,  we  saw 
a  man  and  woman  who  seemed  well- 
informed.  They  hope  to  prove  to  the 
"Secesh"  that  colored  folks  can  work 
and  accomplish  something  without  mas- 
ters or  overseers;  for  it  has  always  been 
said  that  "Niggers  wouldn't  work  un- 
less compelled."  The  woman's  name 
44 


Diary  in  Dixie 

is  Lydia  Polite.  She  gave  us  cucum- 
bers and  peanuts. 

We  asked  another  woman  if  she 
is  contented.  She  answered,  "God 
bless  you,  I  reckon  I  am  —  I  heard  for 
a  long  time  of  war  and  the  coming  of 
the  Yankees,  and  I  spects  my  bones 
be  white  before  I  see  that  time,  but  I 
did  live  to  see  them,  bress  de  Lord." 
She  said  she  had  raised  "Ten  head  of 
childen."  Three  little  ones  were  with 
her. 

Mr.  Everett  brought  us  some  school 
books,  for  which  we  are  thankful. 

May  31. 

We  walked  across  the  fields  to  the 
Baptist    Church,    where    the    colored 

45 


A  New  England  TVoman"  s 

minister  has  his  school.  He  came  to 
meet  us  —  said  his  mother  was  up- 
stairs sick  with  smallpox,  so  we  only 
went  through  the  lower  floor,  and  out 
the  back  door  into  the  pretty  garden. 
In  the  evening  the  family  sang  for  us, 
"Heaven's  bell  ringing  —  won't  turn 
back  heaven's  bell  ringing  for  believ- 
ers." Another  was,  "Sister,  you  come 
too  late,  the  Devil  been  and  shut  the 
gate  and  carried  off  the  keys";  then 
"Don't  judge  me,  Lord,  O  Lord  — 
don't  be  offended,"  and  "Thar's  re- 
joicing ober  yander";  "Let  me  go, 
Jacob  will  not  let  me  go,"  this  repeated 
over  and  over,  and  "Oh,  my  Lord, 
help  us." 


46 


Diary  in  Dixie 

June  i. 

President's  Fast  —  no  school.  Zack 
is  in  trouble  again;  he  did  not  go  to 
church  as  ordered.  We  have  told 
Sarah  we  cannot  have  so  much  "lick- 
ing"; it  is  too  much  for  our  nerves, 
to  say  nothing  of  Zack's  back. 

Mr.  Everett  arrived,  sick.  We 
have  cleared  out  one  of  our  back  rooms 
making  it  as  comfortable  as  possible, 
and  have  put  it  at  his  disposal.  He 
has  overworked,  and  walked  too  much 
in  the  hot  sun. 

A  rattlesnake  was  killed  in  the  yard. 
It  had  wound  itself  round  a  hen,  that 
was  sitting  on  her  nest  under  a  laurel. 

At  the  store  we  met  the  captain  of 
the  little  boat  that  brought  us  to  the 
47 


A  New  England  W^omari*  s 

island,  and  the  boat  agent.  They  are 
surprised  that  we  have  stayed,  thought 
we  were  "too  fine."  As  our  rations 
seem  to  have  been  overlooked,  they 
offered  to  get  them  for  us. 

Mrs.  Pillsbury  sent  us  a  bag  of  rice, 
and  we  have  been  living  on  that,  with 
the  few  eggs  and  vegetables  we  could 
get. 

June  2. 

Mr.  Everett  is  quite  sick.     We  sent 

to  the  commissary  for  the  Government 

doctor,    who    had    gone    to    Beaufort. 

Then  we  sent  to  headquarters  for  Dr. 

Mason.     He    says    Mr.    Everett    has 

typhoid  symptoms. 

At  school  there  were  seventy  schol- 
48 


Diary  in  Dixie 

ars,  who  behaved  pretty  well.  A  girl 
came  just  recovering  from  smallpox. 
She  was  indignant  when  we  sent  her 
away,  but  we  pacified  her  by  telling 
her  she  could  come  back  in  a  few 
weeks.  Going  up  to  our  bedroom  we 
met  on  the  stairs  a  rattlesnake.  We 
screamed  lustily,  and  Uncle  Jack, 
Jim,  George,  and  Zack  appeared.  I 
jumped  over  it,  and  it  fell  through  the 
balusters  to  the  hall,  where  the  men 
killed  it.  We  find  in  our  room  many 
holes  where  it  could  have  come  up  in 
the  walls  from  the  cellar.  To-morrow 
we  shall  paper  our  walls  with  news- 
papers. 


49 


A  New  England  JVomatf  s 

June  3. 

Our  regular  cleaning  day.  Phoebe 
came  to  scour  the  floors.  She  was  much 
pleased  with  a  pink  calico  apron  I 
made  for  her.  Uncle  Jack  brought 
us  a  ripe  fig.  Never  saw  one  before. 
We  shall  have  plenty  if  the  children 
don't  steal  all  that  are  on  the  tree. 

Mr.  Everett  has  been  telling  us  the 
amount  of  rations  the  Government 
allows  each  person.  It  is  ample,  and 
we  are  sure  we  have  never  had  our  full 
allowance. 

We  have  papered  part  of  our  cham- 
ber with  newspapers,  covering  the 
places  where  the  plastering  is  broken, 
where  the  snake  may  have  come  up. 

Little  Ben  went  to  walk  with  us. 
50 


Diary  in  Dixie 

Passing  Sandy's  house,  he  said,  "When 
Sandy  no  at  school,  me  make  no  piece 
of  noise."  Passed  the  evening  listen- 
ing to  George  and  Zack.  Their  owner 
rented  them  out  to  a  hotel-keeper  in 
Sumterville.  They  were  worked  day 
and  night,  never  going  to  bed  until 
after  one  o'clock,  and  getting  up  at 
four  to  go  to  the  station  on  arrival  of 
trains.  Sundays  they  were  allowed 
one  hour  to  go  home,  three  miles 
away,  for  clean  clothes.  The  hotel- 
keeper  paid  their  master  twenty  dollars 
a  month  for  each. 

Sunday,  June  4. 

No    churchgoing  —  too   warm,    and 
the  walk  too  long  for  Sundays,  as  we 
51 


A  New  England  TVomatfs 

are  obliged  to  take  it  every  week-day. 
We  seated  ourselves  on  the  piazza  to 
write  letters.  Soon  a  crowd  of  chil- 
dren were  around  us,  all  wanting 
books,  and  before  we  knew  it  we  were 
teaching  school.  George  and  Zack 
came  with  the  others.  George  is  pa- 
tient and  promising.  We  are  surprised 
at  the  ease  with  which  he  acquires  the 
sound  of  words.  He  teaches  his  father 
after  leaving  us. 

Dr.  Mason  does  not  think  Mr. 
Everett  will  be  sick  long.  He  needs 
rest  and  nourishing  food. 

The  captain  of  the  Hudson  offered 

to   get   our   rations   in   the    city.     We 

gave  him  our  bags  and  trust  they  will 

be   returned  well    filled.     At    bedtime 

52 


Diary  in  Dixie 

we    heard  a    boat  whistle.     We    may 
have  letters  to-morrow. 


June  6. 

The  store-keeper  brought  two  stools 
for  our  use  in  school;  we  found  it  so 
hard  to  stand  all  the  time.  At  eleven, 
Mr.  Blake  brought  our  letters,  papers 
and  rations.  Emily  left  for  home. 
Four  letters  for  me,  and  sixty  scholars 
to  attend  to  before  I  could  open  them! 
We  forgot  our  dinner  and  spent  the 
afternoon  reading  each  other's  letters 
and  talking  of  home.  The  rations 
were  ample;  we  made  exchanges  at 
the  store. 


53 


A  New  England  TVoman '  s 

June  7. 

Coming  home  I  met  Lieutenant  Jen- 
kins, who  told  me  twenty  rebels  had 
been  caught  on  the  island.  They 
landed  at  a  place,  three  or  four  miles 
away,  called  Upper  Landing.  The 
object  of  their  coming  is  not  known. 

June  9. 

School  over  for  the  week.  Very, 
very  hot  weather.  Emily  has  much 
headache  from  the  long  walk  and  ex- 
posure to  the  sun.  School  and  waiting 
on  Mr.  Everett  take  so  much  time  that 
I  cannot  write.  He  is  better,  but  not 
able  to  leave  his  room.  Mr.  Blake, 
who  came  to  see  him,  was  surprised 
and  delighted  with  our  school;  he  said 
54 


Diary  in  Dixie 

Miss  K.'s  and  Miss  S.'s  school  bore  no 
comparison,  —  and  they  "  certified" 
schoolma'ams!  We  are  quite  elated. 
Our  books  number  a  hundred  and 
forty  scholars,  and  from  sixty  to  seventy 
are  in  daily  attendance.  Our  evening 
school  on  the  piazza  is  well  attended, 
and  we  enjoy  our  labors.  All  are  re- 
spectful and  eager  to  learn.  We  notice 
that  all  the  children  and  grown-ups 
also  hold  their  books  sidewise;  when 
we  asked  why,  a  man  answered  "We 
wish  to  learn  to  read  on  all  sides." 

June  io. 

Phoebe  came  to  wash  the  floors,  and 
Julia,  the  windows.     I  gave  the  latter 
a  pink  calico  apron,  and  Phoebe  some 
55 


A  New  England  Woman's 

flour  and  coffee,  which  satisfied  her. 
She  said  she  would  give  herself  to  us 
every  Saturday.  To  Uncle  Jack,  who 
cleaned  up  the  yard,  I  gave  a  hat.  He 
was  tickled,  never  having  owned  a 
covering  for  his  head  before.  We  had 
a  good  dinner,  —  some  ham,  salad  of 
lettuce,  which  Henry's  grandmother 
sent  us,  and  some  biscuits  without 
butter.  Dr.  Mason  took  supper  with 
us.  He  was  much  amused  with  our 
rooms  neatly  papered  with  Springfield 
and  New  York  papers. 

Sunday,  June  ii. 

Hottest  morning  we  have  had  —  not 
a  breath  of  air.  Dr.  Mason  advises 
us  to  leave  the  island  as  soon  as  pos- 

56 


Diary  in  Dixie 

sible  —  not  safe  for  us  to  stay  much 
longer.  A  woman  who  brought  some 
cucumbers  said  she  would  make  any 
sacrifice  to  serve  us,  who  were  doing 
so  much  to  teach  her  children,  who 
knew  nothing  but  how  to  handle  a  hoe. 
George  killed  another  rattlesnake  under 
the  plum  tree,  —  they  are  after  the 
figs  —  horrid  creatures! 

June  12. 

Three  colored  clergymen  visited  our 
school.  They  told  the  scholars  to  be 
neat  and  clean,  and  to  heed  all  that 
was  taught  them. 

June  13  and  14. 

Intolerably  hot  days  —  rather  cooler 
at  night.      Had   a  very  large   school, 

57 


A  New  England  JVomatfs 

one  hundred  and  one  scholars  —  too 
many  —  cannot  keep  order  with  so 
many.  I  am  well  worn  out  before 
noon  with  shouting  and  stamping,  for 
I  am  obliged  to  help  Emily  when  she 
gets  into  difficulty.  We  stayed  after 
school  closed  with  three  unruly  boys, 
rough  and  tough  customers,  who  con- 
fessed that  they  liked  to  tease  us;  but 
they  were  ashamed  and  promised  to 
do  better  in  the  future. 

Captain  Storrs  called.  He  told  us 
there  were  five  guerrillas  at  camp; 
they  had  been  caught  on  the  island, 
but  there  is  no  evidence  to  convict 
them  and  they  will  probably  be  set 
at  liberty. 


58 


Diary  in  Dixie 

June  15. 

Hot,  hotter,  hottest!  Impossible  to 
go  up  to  the  church  for  school.  The 
children  came  down  to  see  why  we 
did  not  appear.  We  kept  them  and 
had  school  on  the  piazza;  Emily 
there,  and  I  down  in  the  yard. 

Mr.  Blake  brought  whisky  and  rem- 
edies for  Mr.  Everett.  He  went  to 
Beaufort  for  them,  and  nearly  lost  his 
life  coming  back.  A  storm  arose,  and 
the  high  wind  blew  their  little  boat 
thirty  miles  out  to  sea;  if  he  had  not 
had  a  small  compass,  he  could  not  have 
got  back.  Mr.  Blake  gave  us  liberty 
to  stop  teaching  when  we  like,  and 
we  have  decided,  as  it  is  so  fearfully 
hot  and  Emily's  head  troubles  her  so 
59 


A  New  England  JVomari '  s 

much,  to  have  school  in  our  house 
until  we  can  go  to  the  bay  for  our 
vacation.  Mr.  Blake  has  left  his  poor, 
half-starved  white  horse  for  Mr.  Everett 
to  ride  to  his  home.  It  is  in  our  shed, 
tormented  by  mosquitoes  and  flies. 

June  16. 

Jim  and  Uncle  Jerry  have  cleared 
out  our  big  front  room  and  arranged 
some  boards  on  blocks  for  seats  for  the 
older  children.  The  little  ones  can  sit 
on  the  floor.  Fifty  came  this  morning. 
They  are  to  bring  stools  —  as  many 
as  have  them  —  so  we  shall  get  on  well. 

Mr.  Everett  bade  us  farewell,  riding 

off    on    his    white    beast;    he    seemed 

pretty  weak.     Mr.  Redpath  writes  that 
60 


Diary  in  Dixie 

we  are  to  report  to  Mr.  Pillsbury,  as 
he  himself  goes  North  on  the  next 
steamer,  and  advises  us  to  close  our 
school.  All  the  Charleston  schools  are 
closed,  as  there  is  much  sickness;  one 
northern  teacher  having  died.  He 
thinks  we  had  better  go  North  for  our 
vacation.  We  cannot  do  that,  for  we 
should  never  return. 

If  our  friends  at  home  could  only 
see  our  flowers!  Cloth  of  gold  roses 
and  lovely  Cape  Jessamines.  The 
evening  was  pleasant;  the  children 
sang  to  us  and  we  told  them  stories, 
—  Red  Riding  Hood,  etc.  They  had 
never  listened  before  to  stories  of  any 
kind,  and  were  most  attentive. 


61 


A  New  England  Woman's 

June  18. 

Still  close  and  hot.  A  shower  at 
noon  with  lightning  and  terrible  thun- 
der, as  we  never  heard  it  before. 
Spent  the  day  writing  letters  home 
and  had  Sunday  school  in  the  even- 
ing. 

June  19. 

We  like  the  new  school  arrangement, 
for  we  do  not  get  so  warm,  can  wear 
loose  sacks,  and  can  spare  our  lungs. 

When  we  feel  tired,  we  sing,  which 
they  all  enjoy.  They  particularly  de- 
light in  singing  "Hang  Jeff  Davis  to  a 
sour  apple  tree.', 

The  children  told  us  some  of  their 

experiences    in    slave    life.     One    boy, 

62 


Diary  in  Dixie 

Tom,  showed  us  deep  scars  on  his 
arms;  said  they  were  from  severe 
whippings.  When  about  eight  years 
old,  he  rode  a  horse  to  a  distant  place, 
and  lost  the  colt  that  was  following; 
and  of  course  was  whipped.  Many 
of  the  negroes  were  born  on  the  island, 
and  are  glad  to  get  back  to  their  old 
homes. 

June  20  and  21. 

Rain  for  two  days.  No  children 
came,  and  we  enjoyed  the  holiday. 
Heard  a  boat  whistle,  but  the  rain  will 
prevent  our  sending  the  boys  to  camp 
for  our  letters.  Sarah  came  to  our 
room  after  dinner,  and  we  had  a  nice 
talk.     She    is    very    quiet    and    never 

63 


A  New  England  TVomarfs 

talks  of  her  experiences  unless  ques- 
tioned; then  she  speaks  with  reluc- 
tance and  much  feeling.  She  says  "  It's 
time  slaves  were  free,  they've  suffered 
enough.  Only  Jesus  knows  what 
they've  endured."  The  song,  "No- 
body knows  but  Jesus,"  tells  the  story. 
She  said  no  slave  mother  could  have 
her  children  after  they  were  old  enough 
to  be  of  use ;  they  were  sold  or  hired 
out.  She  had  often  seen  her  children 
abused  —  punished  severely  for  small 
faults. 

She  had  prayed  and  prayed  that  one 
child  —  her  oldest  —  might  die.  The 
girl  was  not  very  strong,  and  had  the 
care  of  a  fretful  baby,  when  little  more 

than    a    baby    herself.     At    last    God 

64 


Diary  in  Dixie 

heard  her  prayer,  and  her  child  died. 
No  one  could  tell  how  thankful  she 
was.  Talk  of  the  happiness  of  slaves! 
None  were  ever  happy.  They  became 
hardened  to  their  lot  and  were  cheerful, 
but  mothers  were  always  anxious, 
dreading  separation  from  their  chil- 
dren. 

Walter,  one  of  our  scholars,  told  us 
that  he  saw  a  box  addressed  to  us  on 
the  Charleston  boat.  He  sat  on  it  all 
the  way.  What  news!  probably  it  is 
on  the  wharf  soaking  in  this  rain. 

June  22. 

Rain  still  coming  down  in  torrents, 
but  we  must  have  our  box,  so  we 
started  off  some  boys  with  umbrellas 

65 


A  New  England  JVomatfs 

to  find  out  about  it  and  bring  our  letters. 
They  brought  a  big  packet  of  letters, 
and  the  camp  wagon  brought  our  box 
from  home,  and  three  barrels  from 
the  Pillsburys  in  Charleston.  We 
worked  hard  all  the  evening  unpack- 
ing and  looking  over  our  treasures. 
Oh!  such  gingerbread  was  never  before 
made  and  eaten.  We  did  not  care 
for  supper.  Phcebe  was  transformed 
by  her  new  dress.  Uncle  Jack  says 
"She  will  be  getting  a  new  man  now 
she  is  so  fine."  Uncle  Jack  and  Jim 
are  resplendent  in  new  coats  and 
trousers.  Zack  is  a  picture  in  a 
Zouave  suit  of  Jack  King's. 


66 


Diary  in  Dixie 

June  23  and  24. 

The  rain  continues  and  everything 
is  damp  and  sticky.  The  roof  leaks 
badly  and  our  chamber  is  in  a  sad 
state.  George  and  Watson  arrived 
early,  having  heard  of  our  box  of 
clothing.  They  will  mend  the  roof, 
and  we  shall  pay  them  with  cloth- 
ing. Watson  demanded  a  whole  suit. 
We  thought  that  a  large  order,  but 
found  we  could  fill  it,  even  to  the  hat 
and  boots.  We  first  dressed  up  our 
immediate  family,  Sarah  and  the  chil- 
dren. Ann  is  fine  in  a  blue  Garibaldi 
of  Jeannie  G.'s,  and  Abby  in  white 
pantalettes  and  a  blue  poplin,  once 
Jeannie's.  George  wears  a  suit  of 
Henry  Freeman's  and  Fred  Harris's  hat. 

67 


A  New  England  Woman's 

Mr.    Blake    came    to    say   good-by 
for  two  months. 


Sunday,  June  25. 

The  sun  came  out  and  we  had  Sun- 
day school  in  the  school-room.  I  do 
the  preaching  and  Emily  attends  to 
the  singing.  She  is  highly  amused  at 
my  teachings.  What  surprises  me  is 
that  they  know  so  little  of  the  life  of 
Christ;  not  knowing  even  of  his  birth, 
but  they  all  are  familiar  with  his  say- 
ings. They  all  believe  in  a  hell!  I 
asked  the  children  whom  they  love 
best.  Some  answered  "God";  Zack 
said,  "Ma;  she  loves  me  and  feeds  me." 
After  school,  George  came  and  re- 
proved me  for  telling  stories  to  the 
68 


Diary  in  Dixie 

children  on  Sunday.     He  considers  it 
sinful. 

Lydia  Polite  came  to  tell  us  that  her 
baby  had  died.  She  is  a  very  good, 
sensible  woman. 

June    26. 

Eighty  children,  and  not  enough 
room  for  them.  We  heard  the  alpha- 
bet classes  and  turned  them  out  in  the 
yard  to  play.  A  thunder  shower  fresh- 
ened the  air  so  we  could  walk  to  the 
store  to  inquire  how  we  could  get  to 
the  bay. 

Since  the  boxes  of  clothing  came, 
we  have  been  besieged  by  half  the 
island.  Some,  whom  we  do  not  know, 
and    who    live    miles    away,    demand 

69 


A  New  England  TVomatfs 

clothing  and  say  they  have  a  right  to 
it.  I  have  called  Uncle  Jack  to  the 
rescue.  He  knows  how  to  deal  with 
them,  and  explains  that  the  clothing 
does  not  come  from  the  Government, 
and  that  they  must  pay  for  it  with 
vegetables,  eggs,  chickens,  or  what- 
ever they  can  bring  in  exchange.  Be- 
fore we  were  up  this  morning,  Phoebe 
appeared  with  a  live  rooster  some  one 
had  brought.  She  said  she  would 
make  a  pen  for  it,  as  we  were  provided 
with  food  for  the  day.  Before  night 
two  more  were  brought.  Soon  we 
shall  have  a  rooster  house. 

A  girl  came  to  school  with  traces  of 
smallpox   on   her   face.     When    ques- 
tioned,  she   said   her   baby   had   died 
70 


Diary  in  Dixie 

recently.  We  sent  her  off,  indignant 
that  she  came,  and  she  was  equally 
indignant  that  she  was  dismissed. 

Uncle  Jack  has  heard  of  a  man  who 
owns  a  horse  and  cart,  and  we  have 
told  him  to  find  out  what  day  he  will 
take  us  to  the  bay.  Uncle  Jack  says 
we  have  "Done  spile  the  people  here." 
Well!  we  can  soon  un-spile  them. 

June  28. 

Clear,  and  a  refreshing  west  wind. 
We  had  a  sumptuous  dinner,  —  fried 
chicken,  new  potatoes,  green  corn,  and 
watermelons  for  dessert.  Sounds  well, 
our  menu,  but  the  corn  was  so  dry  it 
could  not  be  eaten.  Phoebe  brought 
the  live  chicken  in  her  arms  "For 
7i 


A  New  England  Woman's 

Missis'  dinner,  Mum."  The  potatoes 
came  from  a  man  who  brought  a 
cracked  looking-glass  and  asked  for 
a  gun  in  exchange.  We  took  the  glass 
and  gave  him  coat,  trousers,  and  a  hat. 
The  holes  in  our  bedroom  were  filled 
with  plaster  made  of  mud  and  dried 
moss. 

June  30. 

We  told  the  children  when  we  dis- 
missed them,  that  this  is  the  last  day  of 
school,  but  as  we  do  not  mean  to  leave 
the  island  immediately,  we  will  teach 
a  few  if  they  will  come  to  us. 

July  2. 
A  visit  from  a  Mr.  Curtis  who  keeps 

a  store  at    Peters  Point,  seven  miles 

72 


Diary  in  Dixie 

from  here.  He  brought  the  news  that 
the  soldiers  stationed  here  are  ordered 
to  leave  at  once  for  Beaufort,  to  join 
the  rest  of  the  regiment.  We  are 
troubled  because  we  depend  upon  them 
for  our  mail  and  packages.  All  the 
afternoon  we  wrote,  that  our  letters 
might  be  ready  for  to-night's  steamer. 
George,  Zack,  and  Uncle  Jack  took 
them  to  the  landing  and  gave  them 
into  the  hands  of  Captain  Storrs,  who 
sent  us  a  good-by. 

July  3. 

It  is  a  great  relief  to  have  no  school. 
Got  out  the  materials  sent  from 
home  and  cut  and  fitted  our  bathing 
suits. 

73 


A  New  England  JVomatf  s 

We  took  a  walk  through  the  fields, 
and  saw  Lydia  Polite  hoeing  her  cot- 
ton, which  looks  well,  full  of  blossoms. 
Next  we  saw  our  friends,  Jerry  and 
Louisa  Pious,  with  the  children,  Abby 
and  Ellen.  They  were  setting  out 
slips  of  the  sweet  potato  vine.  Abby 
handled  the  hoe  as  well  as  a  man. 
The  baby,  on  its  back  between  the 
ridges  was  happy. 

From  a  row  of  cabins  that  we  passed 
many  of  our  scholars  ran  out  to  meet 
us;  their  nakedness  was  barely  covered, 
but  we  are  used  to  that.  They  asked 
us  to  go  into  their  homes,  which  were 
miserable,  dark,  and  dirty.  Another 
friend  showed  us  a  cotton-gin  soon  to 
be  put  in  order  and  worked.  We 
74 


Diary  in  Dixie 


walked  by  a  rice  field;  the  blades 
were  just  above  the  ground,  fresh  and 
green. 

We  had  a  call  from  Mr.  Everett, 
who  is  quite  well  again.  He  offered 
to  go  down  to  the  bay  to  select  a  house 
for  us;  we  have  agreed  to  go  next  week 
if  we  can  find  a  conveyance. 

July  4. 

Independence  Day.  Perfect  quiet 
reigns.  We  imagine  we  hear  the  can- 
non and  firecrackers  at  home.  It  is 
so  very  warm  that  we  have  no  life,  and 
lay  on  the  bed  all  the  morning.  James 
Russell  offered  us  his  horse  and  cart 
for  the  day  for  two  dollars  and  a  half. 


75 


A  New  England  Woman's 

July  5. 

Up  early.  James  Russell  came  with 
horse  and  cart,  and  at  nine  we  set  off 
with  Zack,  Ben,  and  our  luncheon. 
The  cart  is  what  we  call  a  dump-cart. 
We  seated  ourselves  in  the  middle  to 
balance,  but  when  the  horse  went 
faster  than  a  walk  we  were  so  thrown 
about  that  we  had  to  sit  on  the  floor. 
The  harness  was  of  rope  —  mostly 
twine;  the  shafts  fell  to  the  ground 
every  few  minutes,  and  Zack,  who 
drove,  was  on  the  continual  jump  to 
replace  them.  We  were  nearly  two 
hours  going  the  three  miles.  When 
we  reached  the  creek  back  of  the  bay, 
the  bridge  was  gone,  but  the  tide  being 
low  we  were   able   to  cross.     Such  a 

76 


Diary  in  Dixie 


delicious  cool  breeze  welcomed  us, 
and  such  a  beautiful,  broad,  hard  beach. 
We  enjoyed  the  day,  eating  lunch  on 
the  piazza  of  one  of  the  most  imposing 
houses.  We  visited  a  dozen  or  more 
houses,  looking  for  one  suitable  for 
our  summer  abode.  The  only  one 
that  pleased  us  is  that  selected  by  Mr. 
Everett  for  himself  and  the  other 
teachers;  as  it  is  large  enough  to 
accommodate  us  all,  we  shall  ask  our 
friends  to  let  us  have  one  half  the  house. 
Because  of  the  tide  we  had  to  wait 
until  after  sunset,  starting  for  home 
about  seven  o'clock.  Our  horse  re- 
fused to  enter  the  creek;  one  of  the 
men  led  him  in,  the  water  being  only 
a  little  above  the  man's  knees.  Half 
77 


A  New  England  JVoman*s 

way  across,  the  horse  stopped  and  re- 
fused to  move.  Suddenly  he  started 
down  the  creek  and  lay  down,  the 
water  nearly  covering  the  cart.  I 
wanted  to  jump  out,  but  Emily  held 
on  to  my  dress.  The  men  came  out 
and  carried  us  over  to  the  land,  then 
unharnessed  the  horse  and  led  him 
back. 

The  fright  and  lateness  of  the  hour 
(for  our  three  miles  drive  was  through 
thick  woods)  decided  us  to  remain  all 
night  on  the  beach.  We  went  back  to 
the  piazza;  Zack  and  Ben  were  soon 
asleep;  Emily  and  I  were  not  so  for- 
tunate. We  were  heated  by  our  long 
walk,  and  disturbed  in  mind.  The 
night   was   glorious.     A  bright   moon 

78 


Diary  in  Dixie 

made  it  as  light  as  day.     We  walked 
the  beach  and  watched  the  waves. 


July  6. 

A  cool  and  refreshing  morning  after 
our  uneasy  night.  The  water's  edge 
is  only  a  few  feet  from  the  house.  All 
the  houses,  sixty  or  more,  are  built 
close  down  on  the  beach.  After  we 
made  our  toilets,  Zack  built  a  fire  and 
boiled  some  eggs.  Before  we  had 
eaten  them,  we  heard  voices,  and  soon 
Jim  and  Uncle  Jack  appeared.  All 
the  people  in  our  yard  had  been  greatly 
worried  and  unable  to  sleep,  fearing 
we  had  been  drowned.  At  daybreak, 
Sarah  had  sent  Jim  and  Uncle  Jack 
in  search  of  us.  Soon  George  arrived 
79 


A  New  England  JVomatfs 

He  could  not  wait  for  the  others 
to  return.  We  had  a  fine  escort  as 
we  went  back  to  the  place  where  we 
had  left  the  horse  and  cart.  A  little 
higher  up  the  creek  was  a  raft  on  which 
we  crossed. 

July  7. 

Robert  came  to  borrow  money  to 
buy  a  "shoat."  Three  dollars  for  the 
pig  and  "a  little  more,"  if  we  could 
spare  it.  As  Rhoda,  his  woman,  is  to 
work  for  us  this  summer,  we  lent  him 
five  dollars. 

July  9. 

Phoebe    said    Louisa   was   going   to 

have  some  friends  for  tea  —  would  we 
80 


Diary  in  Dixie 

contribute  the  sugar  ?  They  were  go- 
ing to  have  a  Praise  Meeting  in  the 
yard,  but  Jim  asked  permission  to 
have  it  on  the  back  piazza  if  it  would 
not  disturb  us.  We  consented,  and 
told  him  we  should  like  to  be  present. 
An  Elder  who  could  read,  led  the  sing- 
ing. George  held  for  him  a  lighted 
candle,  which  we  supplied.  The  leader 
read  one  or  two  lines  from  the  hymn- 
book;  then  they  all  sang,  each  man  for 
himself.  After  the  singing,  the  Elder 
prayed.  He  asked  the  blessed  Lord 
to  raise  the  window  curtains  this  blessed 
night  and  let  the  poor  sinners  look  in, 
and  if  it  was  the  blessed  Lord's  will, 
would  he  this  blessed  evening  send 
down  his  angels  with  a  hammer  and 


A  New  England  JVomatfs 

knife  and  knock  at  every  sinner's  heart, 
for  many  there  are  this  blessed  even- 
ing, weeping  and  tearing  their  hair 
and  searching  for  religion,  and  not 
knowing  how  to  get  it.  They  sang 
again,  then  the  sisters  walked  round  in 
a  circle  with  short,  quick  steps,  swing- 
ing their  arms  and  singing,  "Oh! 
Lord,  don't  be  offended.  Oh!  Lord, 
don't  judge  me  hard,"  and  much  more 
of  the  same  strain.  They  kept  this 
up  a  long  time;  the  meeting  lasted  till 
long  after  midnight.  One  song  was 
"Sister,  you  come  too  late,  the  Devil 
came  and  shut  the  gate  and  carried 
home  the  keys."  Another,  "When 
Gabriel  blow  his  horn  for  Massa  Jesus 

would  he  please  blow  a  little  louder?" 
82 


Diary  in  Dixie 

July  io. 

Packed  more  of  our  belongings  and 
finished  the  bathing  suits.  I  put  mine 
on  and  went  into  the  yard,  which 
greatly  amused  the  children,  who  had 
never  seen  such  a  rig. 

July  ii. 

When  the  man  came  with  his  wagon, 
we  doubted  if  the  horses  could  carry 
us  three  miles,  they  were  such  skele- 
tons, and  the  man  said  they  could  not 
drag  a  heavy  load.  We  put  in  our 
most  desirable  articles  and  started  the 
load  off  about  ten  o'clock,  Jim  and 
Uncle  Jack  walking.  Cuffee  came  to 
sell  watermelons  in  a  nice  cart,  with 
a  seat  and  a  back  to  it,  and  we  offered 

83 


A  New  England  Woman's 

him  two  dollars  to  take  us  to  the  bay. 
We  waited  for  Jim  to  get  back  because 
we  were  determined  to  have  all  our 
possessions  moved  before  night.  He 
did  not  get  here  until  three  o'clock 
because  the  horses  could  not  pull  the 
load  through  the  sand,  and  the  trunks 
and  everything  had  to  be  "toted"  on 
the  men's  heads  across  the  creek  and 
up  the  beach  to  the  house.  Then 
another  load  was  put  on  the  cart,  and 
we  packed  ourselves  and  what  we 
most  needed  into  Cuffee's  wagon  and 
started.  Cuffee  walked.  Emily  held 
the  strings,  and  I,  the  tin  pail,  box, 
etc. 

They   carried    the    things    across    a 
broken  bridge,  a  shorter  way  than  by 

8+ 


Diary  in  Dixie 

the  ford;  and  we  were  glad  to  be  in 
our  summer  home  by  the  sea. 

Edisto  Bay,  July  12. 

A  beautiful  morning,  fresh  and  cool. 
Our  friends  soon  took  their  departure 
for  the  island.  We  were  sorry  to  part 
with  them. 

Soon  some  soldiers  appeared,  in- 
quiring for  the  house  which  is  to  be 
occupied  by  Mr.  Alden,  the  Govern- 
ment Superintendent  of  Edisto  Island, 
who  is  to  arrive  to-day. 

July  13. 

Such  a  morning  and  such  surf  never 
were  known.  New  life  has  been  given 
us.     We  ought  to  have  come  here  a 

85 


A  New  England  Woman's 

month  ago.  We  were  surprised  this 
morning  by  receiving  a  quart  of  new 
milk  from  Mr.  Alden's  house,  with  the 
request  that  we  send  for  it  every  morn- 
ing. Such  luxury  —  the  first  milk  we 
have  seen  since  leaving  Charleston. 
As  for  bread,  we  have  forgotten  how 
it  looks.  We  have  corn-meal  (white), 
which  stirred  up  with  water  and  an 
egg  makes  a  very  nice  cake. 

July  15. 

Received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Blake 
in  Beaufort,  saying  that  the  Govern- 
ment has  stopped  our  rations,  and 
that  we  must  either  supply  ourselves, 
or  the  society,  by  which  we  are  em- 
ployed, must  do  so.  He  advised  us 
86 


Diary  in  Dixie 

to  go  north,  but  we  have  decided  to 
remain  for  the  summer,  at  least;  it  is 
too  warm  now  to  take  the  long  journey. 

Our  house  is  pleasant  and  comfort- 
able, though  minus  a  front  door  and 
some  of  the  windows.  We  have  taken 
two  lower  rooms;  one  looking  on  the 
water,  for  our  sleeping  and  living- 
room,  and  the  other  for  the  dining- 
room.  The  kitchen  is  across  the  yard, 
which  is  deep  with  sand,  washed  up 
by  the  creek.  At  high  tide  we  are 
wholly  surrounded  by  water. 

Besides  Rhoda  and  "her  man," 
Robert,  we  have  George,  who  sleeps 
across  the  threshold  where  the  door 
should  be;  so  we  feel  safe. 

87 


A  New  England  Woman's 

We  have  called  upon  Mr.  Alden, 
who  has  horses,  servants,  and  some 
colored  soldiers,  and  he  has  promised 
to  bring  our  mail  from  the  landing, 
seven  miles  away.  This  is  a  great 
relief. 

We  find  the  bathing  delightful,  and 
ventured  out  quite  far,  until  Robert 
caught  a  shark  in  shore. 

Jim  has  been  down,  bringing  little 

Ben  for  a  visit.     I  have  dressed  him 

in  a  suit  of  underwear  which  came  in 

a  barrel  of  clothing  from  the  "Church 

of  the  Disciples''  (Boston).     He  sleeps 

on    the    floor    beside    my    bed.     One 

night,  as  he  hung  over  my  chair,  he 

was  uneasy,  and  I  asked  what  troubled 

him.     He  whispered,  "Is   the   reason 
88 


Diary  in  Dixie 

you  don't  kiss  me  'cause  I'm  black?" 
I  took  him  into  my  lap  and  held  him 
till  he  slept. 

Miss  Kempton  and  Miss  Stanton 
will  occupy  two  rooms  of  this  house. 
They  will  do  their  own  cooking  and 
will  not  interfere  with  us. 

We  have  only  two  chairs  —  mine, 
a  steamer  chair;  Emily's,  a  pretty 
straight-backed  one;  very  tiresome  to 
sit  in  long  at  a  time ;  we  often  exchange 
and  oftener  stretch  ourselves  on  the 
floor  to  rest.  Our  great  need  is  drink- 
ing water.  There  is  an  open  cistern 
back  of  the  house;  this  we  used  till  a 
party  of  our  colored  visitors  in  a  frolic 
threw  their  hats  into  it.  A  burly  old 
darky  waded  in  and  fished  them  out, 

89 


A  New  England  Woman's 

and  since  then  we  have  used  water- 
melons to  quench  our  thirst.  A  coat, 
vest,  or  hat  in  exchange  will  get  us  a 
plenty.  We  keep  a  pile  on  the  floor 
of  our  dining-room,  and  cut  one  when 
thirsty. 

Our  food  is  getting  low.  We  are 
often  hungry.  Government  flour  is 
full  of  weevils,  little  bugs,  that  baking 
does  not  kill.  We  pick  out  the  wrig- 
gling creatures  and  eat  the  bread 
dipped  in  molasses,  but  soon  we  shall 
have  eggs  and  vegetables. 

A  child  has  been  born  to  Sarah. 
She  has  not  named  it  yet,  as  it  is  con- 
sidered bad  luck  to  give  a  name  to  a 
child  before  it  is  a  month  old.     She 

means  to  call  her  Mary  Emily. 
90 


Diary  in  Dixie 

We  carried  some  clothing  to  our 
namesake,  a  light-colored  individual 
with  a  large  head  of  wool,  and  found 
poor  Sarah  in  great  trouble.  We  knew 
that  Zack  and  Marjorie  had  been  sick 
with  fever,  and  now  Jim  is  very  ill. 

The  bill  from  the  store  made  to 
"Mrs.  Mary  teacher,"  is  a  curiosity. 

Mr.  Everett  has  astonished  us  all. 
He  has  received  from  the  society  in 
Boston  one  hundred  dollars  for  two 
months'  rations  for  the  five  teachers 
on  Edisto. 

The  blacks  at  the  landing  are  dis- 
satisfied. There  is  trouble  about  their 
rations,  and  they  complain  that  Willis, 
91 


A  New  England  JVomari*  s 

the  man  in  charge,  is  cruel.  He  says 
he  has  acted  under  Mr.  Alden's  orders, 
and  so  they  are  angry  with  him  too. 
There  are  some  three  hundred  of  them. 
Several  were  put  under  guard  Satur- 
day, and  the  trial  comes  Monday.  We 
are  anxious,  but  Mr.  Alden  has  no 
fears. 

On  Sunday  Mr.  Alden  went  to  the 
two  churches  and  talked  to  the  people, 
telling  them  "the  law."  The  women 
were  turned  out  of  church  before  the 
men  began  to  talk. 

When  Jim  was  sick,  Sarah  sent  her 

baby  to  the  neighbors  to  be  cared  for, 

and  devoted  herself  to  the  sick  ones. 

We  did  everything  in  our  power,  giving 
92 


Diary  in  Dixie 

money  and  other  things  to  make  them 
comfortable.  Jim  died  the  twelfth  of 
September.  Sarah  had  succumbed  to 
the  same  disease,  and  two  weeks  later 
she  died.  The  last  time  I  saw  her,  she 
asked  me  to  take  her  seven  children 
north  to  my  "plantation."  I  prom- 
ised to  do  all  I  could. 

We  told  Judy,  who  had  taken  the 
baby,  that  we  would  clothe  it  and  pay 
her  for  its  care,  but  she  got  tired  of  the 
child,  and  one  day  left  it  at  our  house 
and  slipped  away.  Rhoda  begged  me 
to  keep  it  and  let  her  care  for  it,  but  I 
declined,  knowing  Mistress  Rhoda  and 
myself  too  well  to  enter  into  such  a 
partnership.  One  of  our  neighbors,  a 
young  woman,  took  it  for  a  time. 
93 


A  New  England  Woman* s 

We  consulted  Mr.  Alden  about  the 
children.  George  was  old  enough  to 
take  care  of  himself.  Zack  was  given 
to  a  woman,  who  promised  to  treat 
him  as  her  own.  The  younger  chil- 
dren and  baby  were  sent,  several  weeks 
later,  to  the  Charleston  orphan  asylum. 

Mary  Emily  did  not  live  long,  nor 
did  Charlotte,  who  was  a  sickly  little 
girl.  Poor  little  Ben,  the  most  affec- 
tionate of  them  all,  refused  to  eat,  and 
died  of  homesickness  the  next  winter. 

My  sister,  who  came  down  to  visit 
us,  carried  Ann,  aged  seven,  and  an- 
other little  girl,  Maggie  Murphy,  home 
with  her.  They  have  lived  in  Spring- 
field ever  since.  Both  are  capable 
women.  After  we  went  north  I  sent 
94 


Diary  in  Dixie 

for  George  and  Zack,  that  they  might 
work  on  our  place,  but  they  were  so 
well  employed  at  the  Phosphate  Works 
that  we  thought  they  would  be  happier 
if  left  among  their  own  people. 

We  gave  the  stewardess  of  one  of 
the  New  York  boats  money  to  bring 
little  Marjorie  to  us,  but  when  my 
brother-in-law  went  to  the  boat  to  get 
her,  he  was  told  that  she  was  dying. 

In  October  Mr.  Alden  was  told  to 
bring  the  people  together  that  General 
Howard  might  talk  to  them  about  their 
future.  On  the  nineteenth  a  cavalcade 
of  twenty  negroes,  mounted  on  horses 
and  mules  of  all  kinds  and  sizes  rushed 
down  to  the  landing,  and  formed  two 
95 


A  New  England  Woman's 

lines,  through  which  General  Saxton 
and  General  Howard,  with  the  other 
gentlemen,  passed,  receiving  the  horse- 
men's salute. 

The  church  was  crowded.  General 
Howard,  in  simple  words,  said  that 
he,  being  their  friend,  had  been  sent 
by  the  President  to  tell  them  that  the 
owners  of  the  land,  their  old  masters, 
had  been  pardoned,  and  their  planta- 
tions were  to  be  given  back  to  them; 
that  they  wanted  to  come  back  to 
cultivate  the  land,  and  would  hire  the 
blacks  to  work  for  them. 

At  first  the  people  could  not  under- 
stand, but  as  the  meaning  struck  them, 
that  they  must  give  up  their  little 
homes  and   gardens,  and  work  again 

96 


Diary  in  Dixie 

for  others,  there  was  a  general  mur- 
mur of  dissatisfaction.  General  How- 
ard's task  grew  more  painful.  He 
begged  them  to  lay  aside  their  bitter 
feelings,  and  to  become  reconciled  to 
their  old  masters.  We  heard  mur- 
murs of  "No,  never."  "Can't  do  it." 
General  Howard  proposed  that  three 
men  be  chosen  to  represent  the  people, 
to  consult  and  report  to  him. 

Meantime  they  were  asked  to  sing, 
and  burst  forth  with  "Nobody  knows 
the  trouble  I  see,"  and  "Wandering 
in  the  wilderness  of  sorrow  and  gloom." 
Two  of  the  largest  owners  came  down 
with  General  Howard.  Many  of  their 
old  slaves  were  in  the  church.  It  was 
touching  to  see  them  saying."  How  dy" 
97 


A  New  England  Woman* s 

to  each  other.  The  gentlemen  also 
felt  it.  Tears  were  in  their  eyes.  One 
of  them  made  a  long  address. 

Still  the  negroes  would  not  trust  them 
or  their  promises,  declaring  that  they 
never  could  work  again  "for  the  Se- 
cesh.',  One  said  "It  was  very  dis- 
tressful." Another  that  he  could 
forgive  his  old  master,  as  he  hoped 
to  be  forgiven,  but  he  had  lived  all 
his  life  with  a  basket  over  his  head, 
and  now  that  it  had  been  taken  off 
and  air  and  sunlight  had  come  to  him, 
he  could  not  consent  to  have  the  bas- 
ket over  him  again.  It  was  a  hard 
day  for  them,  poor  creatures. 

The  committee  came  back  after  some 
time,   saying   they   could   come   to  no 

98 


Diary  in  Dixie 

decision,  they  were  too  much  shaken 
to  see  things  clearly. 

A  few  days  later,  they  drew  up  the 
following  petition  to  the  President: 

Dear  president  Johnson 
Of  the  united  States 
Wee  the    freedmen    of  South   Car- 
lina   wish  to   adress  you   with  a    few 
lines  Conserning  the  sad  feelings  that 
is   now   resting   upon  our   minds   wee 
pray  that  god  may  guive  you  helth  & 
good   spirets    that    when    you    receive 
theas  few  notasis  that  you  may  receive 
them  as   the    father  did   the    prodical 
son   wee  have  for   the   last  four  yars 
ben  studing  with  justis  and    the  best 
of  our  ability  what  step    wee    should 
99 


A  New  England  TVoman^s 

take    to    become    a    peple:    wee   have 

lernt  to  respect  all   Just  Causes  that 

ever  came  from  the  union. 

"  Mag  genrl  howard   has  paid  the 

freedmen  of  South  Carlinah  a  visit  & 

caled  a  meating  on  Edisto  Island  South 

Carliner   in   the    Centrel    part   of  the 

island  at  the  priskple  Church  thair  hee 

beutifly    addressed    the    freedmen    of 

this    island    after   his    adress    a    grate 

many  of  the  peple  understanding  what 

was  said  they  got  aroused  &  awoke  to 

perfict  sense  to  stody  for  them  Selves 

what  part  of  this  law  would  rest  against 

us,  wee  said  in  rafarence  to  what  he 

said  that  nothing  did  apier  at  that  time 

to  bee  very  opressing  upon  us  but  the 

one  thing  that  is  wee  freedmen  should 
ioo 


Diary  in  Dixie 


work  for  wages  for  our  former  oners 
or  eny  other  man  president  Johnson 
of  u  st  I  do  say  .  .  .  man  that  have 
stud  upon  the  feal  of  battle  &  have 
shot  there  master  &  sons  now  Going 
to  ask  ether  one  for  bread  or  for  shelter 
or  Comfortable  for  his  wife  &  children 
sunch  a  thing  the  u  st  should  not 
aught  to  Expect  a  man  (to  do)  .  .  ." 

Continuing,  they  said:  "the  King 
of  south  Carolina  ask  the  Privalage  to 
have  the  stage  that  he  might  a  Dress 
the  ordenence  [audience]  of  the  freed- 
men.  .  .  ." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  scorch- 
ing arraignment  of  the  "old  master," 
who  had  spoken  at  the  meeting,  who 
pretended  to  "such  a  fealing  to  Com- 

IOI 


A  New  England  Woman's 

ply  with  the  best  order  &  also  what 
was  the  best  for  the  freedmen.  .  .  ." 
"Here  is  Plenty  Whidow  &  Fatherles 
that  have  serve  you  as  slave  now  losen 
a  home,"  and  they  beg  that  you  "give 
Each  one  of  them  a  acres  &  a  J  to  a 
family  as  you  has  the  labers  &  the 
Profet  of  there  Yearly  [early]  Youth." 
And  when  "the  Questin  was  asked 
him  by  General  Howard,  what  would 
it  sell  your  Ian  for  a  acres  his  anser 
the  I  would  not  take  a  hunderd  $100 
of  a  acres  that  is  a  part  of  his  union 
fealing  so  then  we  therefore  lose  fate 
[faith]  in  this  southern  Gentelman " 
And  then  they  beseech  "the  wise  presi- 
don  that  sets  on  his  seat"  to  give  them 
"a     Chance   to    Recover  out   of  this 

102 


Diary  in  Dixie 

trubble,"  .  .  .  "these  3  Committee 
has  Pleg  the  Trouth  to  you  dis  day. 
Oct.  25  1865." 

All  of  us  at  headquarters  were  in- 
vited to  dine  on  Christmas  with  Cap- 
tain and  Mrs.  Towles,  and  their  friends 
on  Wadmelaw  Island.  It  was  a  foggy 
morning,  and  we  were  not  in  the  best 
of  spirits.  Four  of  the  soldiers  rowed 
us  in  a  pontoon.  The  dinner  of  wild 
turkey,  etc.,  was  excellent.  The  ladies 
who  were  asked  to  meet  us,  and  whom 
we  liked,  had  been  sent  out  by  the 
Philadelphia  Society. 

Captain  Towles  had  got  a  fiddle  and 

an  old  negro  to  play  it,  and  insisted 

upon    our    dancing,    because    it    was 
103 


A  New  England  Woman* s 

Christmas  and  we  must  be  merry.  It 
was  bad  music  and  worse  dancing, 
but  we  danced  ourselves  into  a  great 
heat  and  great  good  spirits. 

At  seven  we  started  for  home,  think- 
ing an  hour's  rowing  would  bring  us  to 
Edisto.  The  night  was  lovely,  a  clear 
moonlight,  and  the  tide  in  our  favor. 
Soon  we  were  in  a  dense  fog,  and  it 
was  difficult  for  the  gentlemen  to  know 
where  and  when  to  turn  to  find  the 
various  creeks  leading  to  Edisto.  We 
were  weary  and  uncomfortable,  in  fact 
lost,  and  at  one  o'clock,  when  the  moon 
had  set  and  we  were  in  darkness,  Cap- 
tain Bacheller  gave  the  order  to  land. 
We  went  ashore   through   deep   mud, 

climbed  a  steep  bank  and  found  our- 
104 


Diary  in  Dixie 


selves  under  some  trees  on  what  seemed 
to  be  an  uninhabited  island.  The 
soldiers  made  a  big  camp-fire,  and  we 
lay  down  upon  rubber  blankets,  a  log 
covered  with  pine  boughs  and  moss 
as  a  pillow.  We  were  aroused  by 
voices  of  men,  who  with  their  dogs 
had  been  hunting  coons.  To  our  sur- 
prise we  learned  from  them  that  we 
were  still  on  Wadmelaw  Island.  They 
told  us  how  to  get  home.  We  slept 
once  more  and  at  six  o'clock  set  off 
on  the  waters  again,  the  fog  being  still 
very  thick. 

Again  it  was  all  a  mystery  and  we 
proceeded  much  in  the  way  of  the 
night  before,  when  suddenly  we  heard 

the  drums  at  headquarters. 
105 


A  New  England  JVomatfs 

As  we  stepped  upon  the  landing  a 
note  from  Mr.  Alden  was  given  to 
Captain  Bacheller  with  "Sad  news" 
written  upon  it.  He  hurriedly  opened 
the  letter,  and  told  us  that  our  friends, 
Miss  Kempton,  Miss  Stanton,  and 
their  friend,  Mr.  J.  P.  Blake,  had  been 
drowned  in  St.  Pierre  Creek.  We 
were  stunned,  but  drove  immediately 
to  their  home,  the  Middleton  Place. 

They  had  been  to  see  some  friends 

two  miles  down  the   creek,   and  had 

nearly   reached   the   landing   on   their 

return,  when  screams  were  heard;  the 

boat,    which    was    small    and    unsea- 

worthy,  had  been  overturned,  and  they 

were   in   the   water.     Mr.    Blake   was 

lame   and   unable   to   swim,   and   the 
1 06 


Diary  in  Dixie 

young  women  could  not.  A  boat  was 
quickly  put  out,  but  only  the  hats  and 
cloaks  of  the  girls  were  found  floating 
near  the  spot. 

Miss  Kempton's  body  was  recov- 
ered the  next  day.  She  was  buried  in 
the  graveyard,  back  of  the  Congrega- 
tional Church.  Captain  Bacheller  read 
the  service.  All  her  school  children 
came  to  look  upon  her,  and  walked  to 
the  churchyard  singing  as  they  went. 
Two  of  our  hymns  were  also  sung. 
Three  weeks  afterwards,  Miss  Stan- 
ton's body  was  brought  back  by  the 
sea,  and  she  was  buried  beside  Ellen. 
Stones  to  mark  the  graves  were  sent 
down  by  their  own  people. 


107 


A  New  England  Woman*  s 

When  we  broke  up  the  pleasant 
summer  home  in  October,  we  es- 
tablished ourselves  at  the  beautiful 
Seabrook  place,  which  had  been 
headquarters  when  we  first  came. 
We  were  much  more  comfortable  than 
we  had  been  in  our  first  home.  To  be 
sure,  the  roof  leaked  and  we  were  in 
danger  of  being  drowned  out,  but  we 
had  become  used  to  that.  The  win- 
dows were  unglazed,  except  in  those 
rooms  in  actual  use.  There  were  dis- 
turbing sounds  in  the  garret  where, 
upon  investigation,  we  saw  bones  of 
birds  and  rats  and  heard  unearthly 
spittings  and  hissings  from  behind  a 
board.     We  thought  these  were  made 

by    '"possums,"    but    later,    when    a 
108 


Diary  in  Dixie 

pretty  white  owl  was  caught  in  the 
garret,  and  several  flew  past  our 
window  to  the  top  of  the  house, 
we  concluded  that  it  was  owls  and 
not  '"possums"  that  we  heard  at  dead 
of  night. 

The  school  was  in  a  building  once 
used  as  a  billiard  room,  which  accom- 
modated a  large  number  of  pupils. 
We  often  had  a  hundred  and  twenty, 
and  when  word  went  forth  that  sup- 
plies had  come,  the  number  increased. 
Indeed,  it  was  so  crowded  that  we  told 
the  men  and  women  they  must  stay 
away  to  leave  space  for  the  children, 
as  we  considered  teaching  them  more 
important.     They  left  in  high  dudgeon. 

Our  work  was  easier  because  the  chil- 
109 


A  New  England  Woman's 

dren  were  of  a  better  class  and  had 
had  some  instruction. 

When  we  made  out  the  school  re- 
port to  send  to  Boston,  we  were  sur- 
prised that  out  of  the  hundred,  only 
three  children  knew  their  age,  nor  had 
they  the  slightest  idea  of  it;  one  large 
boy  told  me  he  was  "Three  months 
old."  The  next  day  many  of  them 
brought  pieces  of  wood  or  bits  of  paper 
with  straight  marks  made  on  them  to 
show  how  many  years  they  had  lived. 
One  boy  brought  a  family  record 
written  in  a  small  book. 

A  false  report  having  been  circu- 
lated in  Charleston,  that  the  negroes 
on  Edisto  were  in  a  state  of  insurrec- 
tion, General  Beecher  sent  here  early  in 
no 


Diary  in  Dixie 

December  eighty  colored  soldiers  with 

two   (white)   officers.     We    helped  the 

gentlemen  to  start  their  mess,  and  the 

soldiers  were  a  help  to  us  in  many  ways. 

We  had  been  inconvenienced  by  the 

lack  of  a  chimney  in  the  schoolhouse. 

One  day  when,  choking  with   smoke, 

we  asked  the  children  if  some  of  their 

fathers    could    not    come    and    fix   the 

stove,    they    began,    "I    haven't    any 

father" — "I    live  with  Aunty,"   and 

so   on.     We   were    surprised   to    learn 

how  orphaned  our  school  was.     Eight 

of   Captain    Bacheller's    men    built    a 

chimney   for  us.     In   return   we   gave 

each  of  them  a  book,  which  pleased 

them.     They  were  fine-looking  fellows 

and  all  of  them  could  read, 
in 


A  New  England  JVomatfs 

On  New  Year's  day  we  went  to  the 
dinner  given  by  the  Captain  to  the 
soldiers.  Their  mess-room,  the  old 
storehouse  of  the  plantation,  was  dec- 
orated with  pine  boughs  and  gray 
moss.  The  men  spoke  pieces,  which 
they  had  committed  to  memory  for 
the  first  time  in  their  lives,  and  one, 
who  two  years  ago  did  not  know  his 
letters,  read  the  Emancipation  Proc- 
lamation. 

In     January    smallpox     broke    out 

among  the  soldiers  quartered  on  our 

place.     Many  of  our  scholars  took  it, 

and  we  closed  the  school  for  five  weeks. 

We    escaped,    although    in    continual 

danger,  for    the    negroes,  even    when 

repulsively  sick,  were  so  eager  for  our 
112 


Diary  in  Dixie 

gifts  of  clothing  that  they  forced  their 
way  to  our  very  bedrooms,  and  our 
carryall,  drawn  by  men,  was  used  to 
carry  the  patients  to  the  improvised 
hospital.  Several  of  our  earliest  friends 
on  the  Whaley  place  died.  When  on 
Monday,  February  twenty-sixth,  we 
began  school  again,  we  had  thirteen 
pupils.  One  of  them,  when  asked  if 
there  was  smallpox  at  her  plantation, 
answered,  "No,  the  last  one  died  Sat- 
urday." On  the  third  day  one  hun- 
dred children  had  come  back. 

Twice  we  had  to  go  to  Charleston. 

Several    steamers    touched    at    Edisto, 

but  we   sailed   generally  on   the   John 

Adams,    a    Boston    ferry-boat,    which 

"3 


A  New  England  Woman's 

the  fortunes  of  war  had  brought  to 
these  strange  waters.  Both  times  we 
were  detained  coming  back;  once  by 
fog  and  once  by  nightfall,  which  made 
navigation  unsafe  because  of  the  ob- 
structions placed  in  the  river  during 
the  war  by  the  Confederates.  An- 
chored out  at  sea,  in  an  East  Boston 
ferry-boat,  literally  crammed  with 
blacks,  pigs,  poultry,  and  furniture, 
was,  to  say  the  least,  uncomfortable. 
The  novelty  of  these  visits  was  meat, 
which  was  a  food  unknown  for  months 
at  a  time  at  Edisto;  the  pleasure  was 
in  meeting  Mrs.  Pillsbury,  who  was 
always  the  same  dear,  kind  lady.  They 
had  moved  from  their  beautiful  house 

to  one  that  was  dark  and  disagreeable. 
114 


Diary  in  Dixie 

A  (government)  horse  was  sent  to 
Emily;  we  had  the  carryall  and  a 
buggy  which  came  from  home.  We 
were  altogether  so  comfortable  that 
we  invited  my  sister  Elizabeth,  my 
friend  Mrs.  French,  and  Emily's  sister 
and  her  husband  to  visit  us.  They 
came  in  February;  helped  us  with  our 
school  and  criticised  our  housekeeping. 

Robert  and  Rhoda  had  come  with 
us  from  the  bay.  Rhoda  was  not  the 
best  of  cooks,  and  now  that  she  was 
"Striving  for  religion,"  she  and  Robert 
had  to  go  to  so  many  "Shouts"  and 
dances  that  we  moved  them  into 
the  basement,  so  that  they  might  not 
disturb  us  by  their  late  hours. 

Perhaps  this  "Striving"  was  the 
115 


A  New  England  TVomatfs 

cause  of  her  erratic  cooking.  We  ate 
in  silence  the  dried  beef  which  she 
fried  for  breakfast,  only  wondering 
why  the  bacon  was  so  queer. 

Our  friends,  knowing  that  Emily 
was  unusually  fastidious,  were  sur- 
prised that  we  could  live  "In  such  a 
shiftless  way."  They  said  they  "Would 
have  things  decent  and  the  food 
properly  cooked."  We  offered  them 
the  privilege  of  employing  their  New 
England  energy  in  keeping  house  for 
us.  One  day  was  enough.  At  the 
end  of  it  I  asked  my  friend  where  she 
had  been  all  day?  "In  the  kitchen, 
holding  up  the  stovepipe  so  that  Lizzie 
could  bake!" 

They   taught   the    alphabet    to   the 
116 


Diary  in  Dixie 

little  children  who  had  forgotten  it 
during  the  smallpox  vacation,  and 
they  clothed  the  older  ones,  who  went 
from  the  school  to  the  house  in  squads 
of  four  or  five,  coming  back  completely 
metamorphosed,  their  mouths  stretched 
from  ear  to  ear  with  delight. 

Among  the  many  boxes  of  clothing 
sent  by  our  Springfield  and  Boston 
friends  was  one  from  Mr.  Wilcox,  the 
Springfield  milliner,  filled  with  Shaker 
bonnets.  The  little  negroes  did  not 
know  how  to  put  them  on,  but  they 
liked  them  so  well  that  they  would  not 
take  them  off,  and  the  school  presented 
a  queer  appearance  to  our  guests,  who 
could  not  know  our  reason  for  per- 
mitting this  breach  of  decorum. 
117 


A  New  England  TVoman^s 

The  white  people  of  Edisto  have  in- 
deed suffered,  but  now  their  homes  are 
to  be  given  back  to  them.  The  island 
negroes  and  those  brought  here  by 
our  bewildered,  blundering  Govern- 
ment have  had,  and  will  have,  harder 
days  than  their  masters.  Among  those 
that  we  have  known,  however  painful 
their  experience,  and  whether  accus- 
tomed formerly  to  easy  routine  as 
house-servants  or  to  rougher  field  ser- 
vice, not  one  among  them  would 
choose  ease  with  servitude  rather  than 
suffering  with  freedom. 

In   October  we   saw   at   the   wharf 

several  sickly  looking   families  sitting 

round  fires,  waiting  for  the  steamer  to 

carry    them    off.     Two    persons    who 
118 


Diary  in  Dixie 


had  died  in  the  night  from  fever  and 
exposure  were  lying  on  the  bare  ground. 
In  the  building  which  we  were  to  use 
for  our  school,  were  two  families  in  a 
terrible  condition.  One  mother,  who 
was  dying,  had  seven  half-naked  and 
half-starved  children.  All  these  people 
had  been  too  sick  to  leave  by  the  last 
boat  and  had  crawled  back  here.  Mr. 
Alden  had  them  taken  care  of  and  fed, 
for  they  had  already  used  their  small 
crop  for  food.  Mr.  Hubbard,  of  Bos- 
ton, to  whom  I  wrote,  sent  me  a  bale 
of  blankets  to  distribute  among  them. 
Added  to  their  natural  dislike  to 
serve  their  old  masters,  many  of  them 
have  had  bitter  experiences,  which  in- 
crease their  unwillingness.  One,  named 
119 


A  New  England  Woman*  s 

Venus,  told  us  that  she  had  just  come 

from  the  "Main,"  where  she  had  been 

working  all  summer;  she  said:  "I  put 

my  finger  to  pencil  to  sign  contract  to 

work  all  summer  for  one  tenth  of  the 

crop,  and  when  it  was  harvested,  I  had 

one  quart  of  molasses  and  one  bushel 

of  corn,   and   I   and   my  family  were 

sent  away."     She  added  that  she  never 

would  work    for    a    "Secesh"  again. 

Many  of  them  were  industrious.    One 

warm  day  in  December  when  we  were 

looking  for  a  pupil  on  the  Townsend 

place,    who,  we   were    told,    lived    in 

"The    last   nigger    house    on  Nigger 

Street,"  we  went  into  a  cabin,  where  a 

woman  was  so  busy  at  a  cotton-gin 

that  she  did  not  turn  her  head  when 
120 


Diary  in  Dixie 

she  greeted  us.  We  asked  how  much 
cotton  she  could  gin  a  day.  "Don* 
no,  missis,  no  'casion  for  to  task  my- 
self now;  Rebs  gone." 

Occasionally  they  were  glad  to  see 
their  old  masters,  but  I  sometimes  saw 
the  "How  dy"  and  outstretched  hand 
rejected.  Meeting  after  meeting  was 
held  to  reconcile  them  to  the  changed 
and  difficult  conditions.  On  one  oc- 
casion, when  explanations  only  seemed 
to  create  greater  antagonism,  I  ven- 
tured a  remark,  and  was  quickly  told 
by  Ishmael,  their  leader,  that  I  had 
"Better  go  into  the  house  and  attend 
to  study,"  thus  showing  early  in  his 
life  as  freedman,  that  he  had  learned 
the  proper  sphere  of  woman. 

121 


A  New  England  IVomatfs 

In  February,  when  we  went  to  the 
Middleton  place  to  pack  the  trunks 
which  belonged  to  Miss  Kempton  and 
Miss  Stanton,  we  saw  all  the  negroes 
coming  in  from  the  fields,  their  hoes 
over  their  shoulders.  They  told  us 
that  the  guard  had  ordered  them  to 
leave  the  plantation  if  they  would  not 
agree  to  work  for  the  owners.  Sorely 
troubled  they  appealed  to  us.  We 
could  only  tell  them  to  obey  orders. 
After  this  many  of  the  Sherman  ne- 
groes left  the  island. 

In  the   spring  I  went  home   for  a 

month  to  see  my  father,   leaving  my 

sister  to  help  Emily  with  the  school. 

During  the  winter  and  spring,  plant- 
122 


Diary  in  Dixie 

ers  were  coming  and  going  to  arrange 
with  the  government  representative  for 
their  repossession.  Many  of  them 
were  gentlemen,  who  came  into  our 
school  and  whom  we  entertained  at 
our  table,  but  when  they  were  in  pos- 
session and  were  joined  by  their  fam- 
ilies, it  was  different.  The  women 
ignored  us. 

In    May    we    moved    to    the    bay 

with  our   school   benches   and   books, 

and  had  a  large  school  there,  but  a 

month    later   the   Freedmen's   Bureau 

was    dissolved   and  we  were    notified 

that  our  services  were  no  longer  needed. 

As  we   were   so   well   established,   we 

obtained   permission  from  the   Super- 
123 


A  New  England  Woman's 

intendent  of  Schools  in  Charleston  to 
continue,  although  our  large  salary 
of  twenty  dollars  a  month  was  stopped. 
My  salary  had  always  been  paid 
through  the  Bureau  by  Mr.  Charles 
Hubbard,  of  Boston,  whose  pleasure  it 
was  to  be  responsible  for  one  teacher. 

Mr.  Alden  was  dismissed  and  the 
island  was  again  under  military  super- 
vision. 

We  closed  the  school  in  July,  but  the 
heat  was  so  intense  that  we  did  not 
wish  to  travel  until  it  was  cooler. 

In  September  we  returned  the 
"Union"  horse  and  confiscated  carry- 
all, which  had  served  us  and  the 
smallpox  patients,  and  sent  to  Gov- 
ernor Aiken  his  furniture  which  we 
124 


Diary  in  Dixie 


had  bought  from  the  negroes;  one 
piece  was  the  armchair  given  him  by 
his  mother  when  he  was  elected  gov- 
ernor of  South  Carolina. 

The  houses  all  about  us  were  occu- 
pied by  Edisto  families,  who  had  taken 
possession  of  their  own.  Mr.  Edings, 
the  owner  of  the  house  we  had  lived 
in  both  summers,  wrote  that  he  too 
wanted  to  come  back.  There  was  no 
place  for  us,  and  in  the  last  week  of 
September,  1866,  we  said  good-by  to 
Edisto  and  our  negro  friends. 


125 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

THE 
HANES  FOUNDATION 

FOR  THE  STUDY  OF  THE 

ORIGIN  AND  DEVELPOMENT 

OF  THE  BOOK 

ESTABLISHED  BY  THE  CHILDREN  OF 

JOHN  WESLEY  AND 

ANNA  HODGIN  HANES 

RARE  BOOK  COLLECTION 


E185.93 

.S7 

A5 


